
Glass. 
Book 



The Man Who Was Dead 



WORKS OF LEO TOLSTOY 

Published by Dodd, Mead & Company 

Resurrection, a Novel 

Hadji Murad, a Novel 

Father Sergius and Other Stories 

The Forged Coupon and Other Stories 

The Man Who Was Dead 

(The Living Corpse) Dramas 

The Light That Shines in Darkness, a Drama 



The Man Who Was Dead 

(The Living Corpse) 

The Cause Of It All 

Dramas 



BY 



( LEO' TOLSTOY, Uv Jl^olaevid^rjf 

Author of "Anna Karenina," "Resurrection," etc. 



Edited by Dr. Hagberg Wright 




NEW YORK 
DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY 

1912 



1# 



Copyright, 1911, 
By DODD, MEAD & COMPANY 



If 



1 



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i } 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

The Man Who Was Dead . . . > . . n 
The Cause of It All . . w > lm . . . 159 



THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 



DRAMATIS PERSONS 

Anna Pavlovna. 

Elizaveta Alexandrovna Protasov,1 her 
Alexandra Alexandrovna (Sasha) , J daughters 
Fedor Vasilievich Protasov. Lisa's husband. 
Anna Dmitrievna Karenin. Fifty years. 
Victor Mikhailovich Karenin. Her son, 

thirty-eight years. 
Prince Sergius Dmitrievich Abreskov. 

Sixty years. 
Mikhail Alexandrovich Afremov. Protas- 

ov's friend. 
Stakhov, 

Butkevich, l lAfremov's friends. 
iKorotkov, 

Ivan Maksimovich. Old gipsy. 
Nastassia Ivanovna. His wife. 
Masha. Their daughter. 
Ivan Petrovich Alexandrov. 
Petushkov. 
Artemiev. 

Vosnessensky. Secretary of the Synod. 
Examining Magistrate. 
Secretary of the Examining Magistrate. 



io THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 

Young Lawyer. 

Petrushin. Lawyer. 

Doctor. 

Official. 

Maria Dmitrievna O. Friend of Lisa. 

Nurse. 

Mishna. Lisa's little son. 

Guard in the court. 

Servants, Gipsies, Waiters, Policemen, etc, 



fTHE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 

ACT I 

Scene I 

Anna Pavlovna, a stout, mid- 
'die-aged, tight-laced lady, is sitting 
at the tea-table. 

The Nurse enters, with a tea- 
pot in her hand. 

Nurse. 
May I take some boiling water? 
Anna Pavlovna. 
Oh, certainly. How is baby? 
Nurse. 

As restless as can be. What is the good of 
ladies trying to nurse their babies themselves! 
All their worries the baby has to suffer for. 
When a mother stays awake all night long, and 
never leaves off crying, what can her milk be 
worth? 

Anna Pavlovna. 

Oh, that's over, I think. She is quiet now. 

ii 



12 THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 

Nurse. 
Quiet, indeed! I can't stand looking at the 
poor dear. Just now she started off to write, 
and how she cried all the time ! 

Sasha (entering). 
( To Nurse.) Lisa wants you. 

Nurse. 
I'm coming. (She goes out.) 

Anna Pavlovna. 

Nurse says she still goes on crying. I do wish 
she could manage to get over it! 

Sasha. 

Mother, you are perfectly astonishing! How 
on earth can you expect her to behave as if noth- 
ing had happened, when she's just left her hus- 
band and taken her baby with her? 

Anna Pavlovna. 

I don't exactly. But the past must be left to 
take care of itself. You may be quite sure that 
if I approve of my daughter having left her hus- 
band, and if I welcome the step she has taken 
— well, that he deserved it. She has no reason to 



THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 13 

make herself miserable. She ought only to be 
overjoyed at being free now from such an abomi- 
nable wretch. 

Sasha. 

How can you talk like that, mother? You 
know perfectly well it isn't true. He's not a 
wretch; he's a wonderful man — yes, he is. Oh, 
of course, I know he has faults, but he's wonder- 
ful! 

Anna Pavlovna. 

Wonderful, indeed! The moment he has 
money, whether he gets it from his own pocket or 
somebody else's — 

Sasha. • 

Mother! He has never taken anybody else's 
money. 

Anna Pavlovna. 

Yes, he has. Hasn't he taken his wife's money ? 

Sasha. 

Why, he settled the whole of his fortune on 
Lisa! 

Anna Pavlovna. 

It was the only thing for him to do. He knew 
he would squander everything he could lay hands 
on. 



i4 THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 

Sasha. 

I'm sure I don't care whether he would or he 
wouldn't. All I know is that a wife ought not to 
leave her husband — particularly a husband like 
Fedia. 

Anna Pavlovna. 

I suppose you would have liked her to wait till 
he had spent absolutely everything they had, and 
not have objected in the least when he brought 
his gipsy mistresses home with him? 

Sasha. 
He hasn't got any mistresses. 

Anna Pavlovna. 
That is the worst of it — he seems to have be- 
witched you all; I don't know how. I should 
like to see him try it on with me. I can see 
through him, and he knows it. In Lisa's place I 
would have left him a good twelve months ago. 

Sasha. 
Oh, you think it's all so easy! 

Anna Pavlovna. 
That's just where you're mistaken. It's very 
far from easy for me to see my daughter separated 



THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 15 

from her husband. It is, indeed. But anything 
is better than that a young life like hers should be 
ruined. I consider it truly providential that she 
has made up her mind to go, and that everything 
is over between them. 

Sasha. 
Perhaps it isn't. 

Anna Pavlovna. 
It will be. If only he will consent to a divorce. 

Sasha. 
What will be the good of that? 

Anna Pavlovna. 
The good will be that she is young and that she 
may still have some happiness in store for her. 

Sasha. 
It is simply disgusting to hear you talk like that, 
mother I Lisa can't love another man. 

Anna Pavlovna. 
Why not? Why shouldn't she, when she's 
free? There are men a thousand times better 
than your adored Fedia who would be enchanted 
to marry Lisa. 



i6 THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 

Sasha. 
I know whom you mean, mother. It's very 
wrong of you. I know you mean Victor Karenin. 

Anna Pavlovna. 

Well, there's no harm in it if I do. He's been 
in love with her for ten years, and she loves him. 

Sasha. 

She doesn't love him in the least as a husband. 
They have just been friends ever since they were 
children. 

Anna Pavlovna. 

I know what such friendships mean. Oh, if 
only nothing crops up to prevent it ! 

A Maid enters. 
What is it? 

Maid. 

The porter has come back with an answer to the 
note for Victor Mikhailovich. 

Anna Pavlovna. 
Who sent him? 

Maid. 
Elizaveta Andreevna. 



THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 17 

Anna Pavlovna. 
Well? 

Maid. 
Victor Mikhailovich told the porter He would 
be here directly. 

Anna Pavlovna. 
How extraordinary, when we were just talking 
about him ! But what can she want him for now? 
( To Sasha.) Do you know? 

Sasha. 
Maybe I do. Maybe I don't. 

Anna Pavlovna. 
You always make secrets of things. 

Sasha. 
Lisa will tell you when she comes. 

Anna Pavlovna 

shakes her head. (To the Maid.) The samo- 
var is cold. Take it away, Duniasha, and make 
the water boil again. 

The Maid takes the samovar 
and goes out. Sasha rises as if to 
follow her from the room. 



1 8 THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 
Anna Pavlovna. 
You see I was right. She has sent for him at 
once. 

Sasha. 
I dare say it's some perfectly different reason 
from what you think. 

Anna Pavlovna. 
What for, then? 

Sasha. 
She doesn't care a scrap more for Karenin than 
for that old nurse Tripovna. 

Anna Pavlovna. 
You will see. I know her. She's sent for him 
because she wants him to console her. 

Sasha. 
O mother, how little you know her if you can 
think — - 

Anna Pavlovna. 
You will see. Yes, and I am very, very glad 
indeed. 

Sasha. 
We'll see. (She goes out, humming.) 



THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 19 

Anna Pavlovna. 
(Alone, shaking her head and muttering to her- 
self.) Very well, I don't mind. Very well, I 
don't mind. I — 

Maid (entering.^ 
Victor Mikhailovich has come. 

Anna Pavlovna. 

Ask him in, and tell Elizaveta Andreevna. 

The Maid goes out by the door 
leading to the inner apartments. 

Victor Karenin 

entering, and shaking hands with Anna Pav- 
lovna. I got a note from Elizaveta Andreevna 
asking me to come round. I meant in any case to 
call this evening, so I was delighted ... is 
she quite well? 

Anna Pavlovna. 

She is all right; the baby is a little ailing. She 
will be here in a minute. (Sadly.) We are hav- 
ing a hard time just now. But you know all about 
that. 

Karenin. 

I know. I was here the day before yesterday, 
when that letter came from him. But is this really 
a final decision? 



20 THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 

Anna Pavlovna. 

I should think so ! It would be utterly impos- 
sible to begin all over again. 

Karenin. 

I should like to urge that in this case particularly 
second thoughts may be best. It is a terrible 
thing to tear lives apart that have been bound to- 
gether. 

Anna Pavlovna. 

No doubt. But with them the rift began long 
ago, and the complete severance was easier than 
one would have thought. He understands that 
after all that has happened he could not return 
home, even if it had been open to him to do so. 

Karenin. 
Why? 

Anna Pavlovna. 

After his disgusting conduct? He swore it 
should never never happen again, and he gave his 
word that if it did he would voluntarily resign all 
claims on his wife, and give her back her entire 
freedom. 



THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 21 

Karenin. 
How can a wife tied by the marriage bond be 
given back her freedom? 

Anna Pavlovna. 
She can be made free by a divorce. He has 
agreed to a divorce, and we shall insist on it. 

Karenin. 
But Elizaveta Andreevna loved him so 
deeply — 

Anna Pavlovna. 
Her love has been so terribly tried that there is 
hardly anything left of it. Drinking, gambling, 
unfaithfulness — what love could bear with such a 
husband ? 

Karenin. 
True love holds in spite of all. 

Anna Pavlovna. 
You say : love. But who could love a man like 
that? He was perfectly unreliable; there was no 
depending on him in anything. You know the last 
thing that happened (looking back at the door, 
and finishing quickly what she had to say.) Their 
situation was absolutely critical, everything was 
pawned — they had nothing to meet the most nec- 
essary expenses. At last his uncle sent two thou- 
sand roubles due as interest. He takes that money 
and disappears, leaving his wife alone with the sick 



22 THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 

baby, waiting for him; and then comes a note, 
asking to have his clothes and things sent after 
him. 

Karenin. 

Yes, I know. 

Sasha and Lisa come in together. 

Anna Pavlovna. 

Victor Mikhailovich does come, you see, when 
you send for him. 

Karenin. 
I would have come sooner, but I was detained 
{he shakes hands with the sisters.) 

Lisa. 

Thank you so much. I have a great service 
to ask you. There is no one else I could turn to. 

Karenin. 
Anything I can do, I will. 

Lisa. 
You know all about this, don't you? 

Karenin. 
Yes, I know. 



THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 23 
Anna Pavlovna. 

Then I will leave you to yourselves. (To Sa- 

sha.) Come with me. We shall be in the way. 

(Anna Pavlovna and Sasha go out.) 

Lisa. 

Well, he has written to me saying it's all over 
between us. I (restraining her tears) was so hurt 
that — . Anyhow, I agreed to separate. I have 
answered that I am willing to part, as he wishes 
it. 

Karenin. 

And now you are sorry for having said so? 

Lisa. 

Yes. I feel I ought not to have accepted. I 
cannot. — Anything, but not to part with him. 
Now, give him that letter. Please, Victor, give 
him the letter and tell him. — Bring him back ! 

Karenin (surprised.) 
Well, but — 

Lisa. 

Say I ask him to forget all that has happened, 
and to come back. Of course I could send him the 
letter. But I know him so well : his first impulse, 



24 THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 

as always, would be a good one; but then some- 
body else's influence would come in, and he would 
change his mind and do the contrary of what he 
really wished. # 

Karenin. 
I will do what I can. 

Lisa. 
You are surprised at my asking you to help me? 

Karenin. 

No — well, yes, to tell the truth ; yes, I am sur- 
prised. 

Lisa. 
But not angry? 

Karenin. 
How can I be angry with you? 

Lisa. 
I asked you because I know you love him. 

Karenin. 

Him, and you. You know that. And you 
know that I love you for yourself alone, not for 
anything I may hope from you. Thank you for 
trusting me. I will do all I can. 



THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 25 
Lisa. 

I know you will. I will tell you everything. I 
called to-day at Afremov's to ask if they knew 
where he was. They told me that he had gone to 
the gipsies. I am in terrible anxiety. I am so 
afraid of his passion for them. If he is not re- 
strained in time, it will enslave him again. It 
must be prevented. You will look for him? 

Karenin. 

I'll go at once. 

Lisa. 

Go. Find him, and tell him IVe forgotten 
everything and am waiting for him. 

Karenin (rising.) 
But where shall I go to find him? 

Lisa. 

He is at the gipsies'. I went to the place my- 
self. I went to the door. — I was just going to 
send in the letter, but then I thought I had better 
not, and decided to ask you. Here is the address. 
Tell him that he is to come back as if nothing had 
happened; that I have forgotten everything. Do 
it out of love for him, and out of friendship for 
us. 



26 THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 

Karenin. 

I will do everything I can. {He bows to her 
and goes out.) 

Lisa {alone.) 

I cannot, I cannot. Anything but — I cannot ! 

{Enter Sasha.) 

Sasha. 

Well, have you asked him? 
Lisa {nods.) 

Sasha. 
And he was willing to go? 

Lisa. 

Of course. 

Sasha. 
But why did you ask him to do it? I can't un- 
derstand. 

Lisa. 
Whom else could I ask? 

Sasha. 
But you know that he is in love with you. 

Lisa. 
That is a thing of the past. And whom else 



THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 27 

would you have me ask? Tell me: you think he 
will come back? 

SashA. 
I am sure he will. He -^ 

Anna Pavlovna. 
(coming back.) Where is Victor Mikhailovich ? 

Lisa. 
Gone. 

Anna Pavlovna. 
Gone? 

Lisa. 

I have asked him to do something for me. 

Anna Pavlovna. 
What was it? Another secret? 

Lisa. 

No secret at all. I simply asked him to take a 
letter to Fedia. 

Anna Pavlovna. 
To Fedia? To Fedor Vasilievich? 

Lisa. 
Yes, to Fedia. 



23 THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 

Anna Pavlovna. 
I thought it was all over between you. 

Lisa. 
I cannot part from him. 

Anna Pavlovna. 
What! The same old story beginning again? 

Lisa. 

I wanted to : I tried hard, but I can't. I'll do 
anything you like, but I can't part from him. 

Anna Pavlovna. 
You don't mean you want him to come back?, 

Lisa. 
iYes, I do. 

Anna Pavlovna. 
To have that wretch again in your house ! 

Lisa. 
Mother, I wish you would not talk about my 
husband like that. 

Anna Pavlovna. 
He was your husband, but he is so no more. 



THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 29 

Lisa. 
He is my husband. 

Anna Pavlovna. 

A spendthrift, a drunkard, a rake — and you 
cannot part from him. 

Lisa. 

Why do you torture me? I am wretched 
enough as it is. You are so inconsiderate — 

Anna Pavlovna. 

That is how you take it. I torture you, do I? 
Very well. Then I had better go. I cannot stand 
it. 

(Lisa keeps silent.) 

I see; I am in your way, and you want me to 
go. I can only say I am disgusted. I don't un- 
derstand you, or what you want. You are wholly 
unreliable. One moment you decide to leave your 
husband, the next you send for the man who is in 
love with you. 

Lisa. 

Nothing of the kind. 

Anna Pavlovna. 
You know that Karenin proposed to you, and 



30 THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 

now you send him to bring back your husband. 
Do you simply want to make him jealous? 

Lisa. 

Mother! how abominable! Do leave me in 
peace, can't you? 

Anna Pavlovna. 

Turn out your mother, do; and welcome your 
depraved husband. No, no; I won't wait for you 
to do it. I shall go at once. And you can do 
whatever you choose. (She goes out, banging the 
door.) 

Lisa. 

(dropping into a chair.) That, too ! 

Sasha. 

Don't worry. That will be all right. We will 
make peace with mother. 

Anna Pavlovna. 
(crossing the room.) Duniasha, my bag! 

Sasha. 

Listen, mother ! 

(She follows her mother out of 
the room looking significantly at 
Lisa.) 



THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 31 



Scene II 

A room at the gipsies'. Gipsies sing " Kanavella." 

(Fedia is lying on the sofa, his 

face down; he has taken of his coat. 

AFREMOV is sitting astride on a 

chair, facing the leader of the gipsy 

singers. 

An Officer sits at the table, on 
which are standing bottles of cham- 
pagne and glasses. At his side sits 
a Musician taking down the 
songs.) 

Afremov. 
You asleep, Fedia? 

Fedia. 
(rising.) Shut up! Now then, "Not the even- 
ing hour." 

Gipsy. 
Not yet, Fedor Vasilievich. Let Masha sing 
a song first. 

Fedia. 
All right. And after that, " Not the evening 
hour." (He lies down again.) 

Officer. 
Let's have " The fatal hour!" 



32 THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 
Gipsy. 
(to Afremov.) Shall she sing that? 

Afremov. 
I don't mind. 

Officer. 
(to the Musician.) Have you got it right? 

Musician. 

It's impossible to take it down correctly. Each 
time the tune changes somehow. And they seem 
to have a different scale. Now, here. (He calls 
to a gipsy woman.) How is this? (Humming 
the tune.) Is this right? 

Gipsy Woman. 
Quite right. Splendid. 

Fedia. 

(rising.) He won't get it right on paper, and 
even if he does, and then shovels it into an opera, 
he'll make it seem absolutely rotten. Well, 
Masha, fire away! Anything will do: " The fatal 
hour," if you like. Take the guitar. (He rises, 
sits down facing her, and looks in her eyes.) 

(Masha sings.) 



THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 33 
Fedia. 

That's wonderful. And you're wonderful too, 
Masha ! Now then, " Not the evening hour." 

Afremov. 

Wait a moment. Let's have my funeral song 
first. 

Officer. 

Funeral? What's that? 

Afremov. 

Why, when I die. . . . Really die, you 
know ; when I am lying in the coffin, the gipsies will 
come ... I shall give directions to my wife 
in my will, you know. And then, when they begin 
singing their " Shol-me-wersta," I shall jump out 
of the coffin, don't you know. That is the song 
you ought to note down. Now then, start in! 

( The Gipsies sing.) 

Afremov. 

What do you say to that? Eh? And now, 
" Love, my dear ones." 

{The Gipsies sing.) 
(Afremov dances to the tune. 
The Gipsies, smiling, go on sing- 
ing and beat the measure. 



34 THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 

Afremov sits down. The song 
ends.) 

Gipsy. 

I say, Mikhail Andreevich, you dance like a true 

gipsy. 

Fedia. 
And now, " Not the evening hour." 

(The Gipsies sing.) 

That's it. That is the song. Wonderful! 
And how does it all happen? What is it all 
about? Wonderful, wonderful! To think that 
man can reach such ecstasy and then — nothing 
more; nothing further — we can achieve nothing 
with it ! 

Musician. 
(taking notes.) Yes, it is very original. 

Fedia. 
Original is not the word. It is the real thing. 

Afremov. 

Well, Pharaoh's tribe, take a rest. (He takes 
a guitar , and sits down at the side of the gipsy girl 
Katia.) 



THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 35 

Musician. 

It is very simple, on the whole, but there's some- 
thing queer about the rhythm. 

Fedia. 

(with a gesture, comes near Masha and sits down 
on the sofa close to her,) O Masha, Masha, you 
turn my soul inside out. 

Masha. 
Well ? What is it I asked you for ? 

Fedia. 

What? Money. (He takes money out from 
his trousers' pockets.) There, take it. 

(Masha laughs, takes the 
money, and hides it in her bodice.) 

Fedia. 

(to the Gipsies.) Incomprehensible creature! 
She unlocks the gates of heaven for me ! And 
then all she asks for is — money ! In the devil's 
name, do you understand yourself what you are 
doing? 

Masha. 
I don't know what there is to understand. I 



36 THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 

understand that if I care for some one I do my 
best to please him, and I sing for him better than 
for all the rest. 

Fedia. 
Do you care for me? 

Masha. 
You know how much. 

Fedia. 

You — marvel ! ( Kisses her.y 

(The Gipsies, Men and 
Women, leave the room. A few 
couples remain: Afremov with 
Katia, the Officer with another 
girl, Gasha. The Musician 
writes. A gipsy plays a waltz on 
the guitar very softly.) 

Fedia. 

I am a married man. And you belong to your 
gipsy troupe. They would not let you — • 

Masha. 

My heart and the troupe have nothing to do 
with one another. If I love a man, I love him no 
matter what comes. Or if I hate a man, I hate 
him, and no help for it. 



THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 37 

Fedia. 
I am happy! I am happy! And you — are 
you happy? 

Masha, 

I'm always happy when nice visitors come, and 
then we all have fun. 

Gipsy. 

(entering, to Fedia.) A gentleman is asking for 
you. 

Fedia. 
What gentleman? 

Gipsy. 

Don't know. He is well dressed. Sable fur 
coat. 

Fedia. 
Rich? Well, ask him in. 

Afremov. 
Who can it be wants to see you here? 

Fedia. 

The devil knows. Who can want me! 

(Karenin comes in looking 
round the room.) 



38 THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 

Fedia. 

Victor ! You are the last man I would have ex- 
pected. Take off your coat. What wind has 
blown you here? Sit down. They will sing 
" Not the evening hour " for you. 

Karenin. 
Je voudrais vous parler sans temoine. 

Fedia. 
What about? 

Karenin. 

Je viens de chez vous. Votre femme m y a 
char gee de cette lettre, et puis — 

Fedia. 

{takes the letter, reads, frowns, then smiles affec- 
tionately.) Listen, Karenin; you know, I dare 
say, what that letter contains? 

Karenin. 
I know. And I want to tell you ==s 

Fedia. 

Wait, wait. Don't imagine, please, that I am 
drunk, and that my words are unaccountable — I 
mean, that I am unaccountable. I am drunk, but 



THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 39 

my head is quite clear about this. But what have 
you been told to tell me? 

Karenin. 

Your wife has asked me to find you, and to say 
that she is waiting for you. She begs you to for- 
get everything, and to come back. 

Fedia. 

(listens silently, looking into his eyes.) I still 
don't understand. Why have you? . . . 

Karenin. 

Elizaveta Andreeva sent for me, and asked 
me^-H 

Fedia. 
Then^- 

Karenin. 

But it is not so much in your wife's name as on 
my own behalf that I implore you to come home 
with me ! 

Fedia. 

You're a better man than I am. What a ridic- 
ulous way to put it ! It's not hard to be better than 
me: I'm a scoundrel, and you are a good man. 
That's why I won't go back on my decision. And 
not only because of that. I simply cannot, and 
will not. How could I go back? 



40 THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 
Karenin. 

Come to me first. I will tell her you have come 
back, and to-morrow \ — : 

Fedia. 

Well — to-morrow? To-morrow I shall be 
just what I am now, and she will be the same as 
she is. (He goes to the table and drinks.) Bet- 
ter have the tooth straight out. I told her that if 
I didn't keep my word, she was to leave me. I 
did not keep it, and there's an end of it. 

Karenin. 
For you, but not for her. 

Fedia. 

It's very extraordinary that you should take so 
much trouble to prevent our marriage from being 
broken up. 

(Karenin is about to say some- 
thing, when Masha enters.) 

Fedia. 

(interrupting him.) Now just hear her sing 
" The Flax." Masha, sing for him. 

(The Gipsies gradually return 
to the room.) 



THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 41 
Masha. 
(whispering.) We ought to give him a cheer. 

Fedia. 

(laughing.) Give him a cheer 1 Three cheers 
for Victor Mikhailovich ! 

(The Gipsies sing, cheering 
Karenin.) 

Karenin. 

(listens, somehow confused. To FEDIA.)' 'How 
much ought I to give them? 

Fedia. 
Give them twenty-five roubles. 

(Karenin gives the money, then 
quietly leaves the room.) 
There, that's good. Now "The Flax." 
(Looking round.) Hullo! Karenin has van- 
ished. Devil take him ! 

(The Gipsies disperse.) 

Fedia. 

(sitting down close to Masha.) You know who 
that was? 

Masha. 

I heard the name. 



42 THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 
Fedia. 

He is an excellent fellow. He came to fetch 
me home, to my wife. She loves me, and that is 
how I behave, fool that I am! 

Masha. 

You're wrong. You ought to have pity on her. 

Fedia. 

You think so? I don't. 

Masha. 

Of course, if you don't love her, you oughtn't 
to. 

Fedia. 
How do you know that? 

Masha. 
Maybe I know. 

Fedia. 

Give me a kiss. Now, " The Flax," and then 
let us stop. 

(The Gipsies sing.) 

Fedia. 

Wonderful! Wonderful! Oh, never to wake 
up ! To die like that without waking ! 



THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 43 

ACT II 
Scene I 

Two weeks have elapsed. At Lisa's. 

(Karenin and Anna Pavlov- 
NA are sitting in the dining-room. 

Sasha enters from the inner 
door.) 



Karenin. 



Well? 



Sasha. 

The doctor says all danger is over now. The 
only thing is to prevent the child taking cold. 

Anna Pavlovna. 
Poor Lisa is quite exhausted with all this anxiety. 

Sasha. 

He says it is a sort of slight angina. What is 
that? {She points to a basket.) 

Anna Pavlovna. 
Grapes. Victor brought them. 

Karenin. 
Would you like to have some? 



44 THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 
Sasha. 

Lisa like grapes. She has become so nervous 
of late. 

Karenin. 

She has not slept these two nights, nor eaten 
anything. 

Sasha. 

(smiling.) Neither have you. 

Karenin. 
That is quite another thing. 

Doctor. 

(entering with Lisa, importantly.*} As I told 
you: change the compress every half-hour, if the 
child is not asleep. If he is asleep, don't disturb 
him. No painting the throat. Keep the room 
warm, and — 

Lisa. 

And if he has another fit of choking? 

Doctor. 

He won't. But, anyhow, if it happens, spray 
his throat. Then there are the powders to give 
him. One the first thing in the morning, another 
at night. I will write the prescription. 



THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 45 
Anna Pavlovna. 
Won't you have some tea, doctor? 

Doctor. 

No, thanks. My patients are waiting for me. 
{He sits down at the table. Sasha brings him pa- 
per and ink.) 

Lisa. 

Then you are quite sure it's not croup ? 

Doctor. 
{smiling.) Quite sure. {He writes.) 

Karenin. 

{to Lisa.) Have some tea now. And the best 
thing will be for you to go and rest. Look what 
you are like! 

Lisa. 

I breathe again* now. But it's your doing. 
You are a true friend. {Presses his hand. Sasha 
steps aside , visibly annoyed.) I thank you, my 
dear friend. This is a case when a friend — 

Karenin. 

I have not done anything. You have nothing 
to thank me for. 



46 THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 

Lisa. 

Who was it who had no sleep for two nights? 
Who brought the very best doctor? 

Karenin. 

My reward is that the child is out of danger. 
And I am still more rewarded by your kindness — 
your extreme kindness. 

( They again shake hands and he 
smiles, showing the money that she 
has left in his hand.) 

Lisa. 
{smiling.) That is the doctor's fee. I never 
know how to give it to him. 

Karenin. 
Nor do I. 

Anna Pavlovna. 
What is it you don't know how to do? 

Lisa. 

How to pay the doctor. He saved what to me 
is more than my life, and I have to repay it with 
money. There is something so unpleasant in the 
idea. 



THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 4 7 

Anna Pavlovna. 

Leave that to me. I will do it all right. 
There's no difficulty whatever. 

Doctor. 

(rises and hands the prescription.) Dissolve each 
powder in a tablespoonful of boiled water, stir it 
and ... (he continues to give his directions 
to LlSA, while Karenin sits at the table drinking 
tea. Anna Pavlovna and Sasha step for- 
ward. ) 

Sasha. 

I can't stand the way they talk to each other ! 
She behaves as if she were in love with him. 

Anna Pavlovna. 
I should not wonder if she were. 

Sasha. 

It's perfectly disgusting ! 

( The Doctor shakes hands with 
the family, and goes out, Anna 
Pavlovna follows him to the 
hall.) 

Lisa. 

(to Karenin.) He is such a sweet child. The 
moment he felt better, he began to smile and to 



48 THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 

babble. I will go to him. But I am sorry to 
leave you. 

Karenin. 
Have some tea first Eat something. 

Lisa. 

I don't want anything. I feel so relieved now 
all this anxiety is over. (She sobs.) 

Karenin. 

You see how exhausted you are ! 

Lisa. 

I am so happy. Will you come along with me 
to see the child? 

Karenin. 
With pleasure. 

Lisa. 

Then come. 

(They go out together.) 

Anna Pavlovna. 

(entering from the hall. To Sasha.) Why do 
you look so gloomy? I handed him the money 
all right, and he took it quite simply. 



THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 49 
Sasha. 

I think it's odious of her! She's taken him to 
the nursery. Just as if he were engaged to her — 
or her husband! 

Anna Pavlovna. 

What difference does it make to you? Do you 
want to marry him yourself, I wonder?- 

Sasha. 

To marry that sign-post! I would marry any 
one sooner than him. Nothing of the sort ever 
entered my head. I simply feel disgusted that, 
after Fedia, she should be making up to a stran- 
ger. 

Anna Pavlovna. 

He is not a stranger. They have been friends 
since they were children. 

Sasha. 

They're in love — I can see they are, by the 
way they smile and make eyes at each other. 

Anna Pavlovna. 

No wonder. He's been such a help now, all 
during the baby's illness — so full of sympathy ! 
He did all he could, and she is grateful to him. 



5 o THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 

I see no harm in her being in love with Victor and 
marrying him. 

Sasha. 

It would be odious, disgusting! Simply dis- 
gusting ! 

(Karenin and Lisa come in 
again. Karenin takes leave with- 
out speaking. Sasha agitatedly 
leaves the room.) 

Lisa. 

{to her mother.) What is the matter with 
Sasha? 

Anna Pavlovna. 

I don't know, I'm sure. 

(Lisa sighs.) 

Scene II 

In Afremov's study. Glasses full of wine are 
on the table. 

{Among the guests are Afre- 
mov; Fedia; Stakhov, a man 
with a full heard, long hair; BuT- 
KEVICH, who is clean shaven; 
Korotkov, Afremov y s toady.) 



THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 51 

KOROTKOV. 

And I tell you, he can't win. La Belle-Bois is 
the best horse in Europe. I bet you she is. 

Stakhov. 

Shut up, old chap. You know nobody believes 
what you say, and nobody will take your bet. 

Korotkov. 

I tell you your Kartouche will be beaten. 

Afremov. 

Don't quarrel. Let me settle the point for you. 
Ask Fedia. You can depend upon his judgment. 

Fedia. 

They're both good horses. It all depends on 
the jockeys. 

Stakhov. 

That jockey Gusev is a wrong 'un. He ought 
to be watched. 

Korotkov. 
(shouting.) That's not true. 

Fedia. 

Look here. I'll solve the problem for you. 
Who won the Derby? 



52 THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 

KOROTKOV. 

I know, but that does not prove anything. It 
was just by accident. If Cracus hadn't been taken 
ill. Now, look here — 

(A Man-Servant enters.) 

Afremov. 
What is it? 

Servant. 
There's a lady here who wishes to speak to 
Fedor Vasilievich. 

Afremov. 
Who is she? 

Servant. 

I do not know. A real lady, sir. 

Afremov. 
Fedor, a lady for you. 

Fedia. 
(alarmed.) Who is she? 

Afremov. 
He doesn't know. 

Servant. 
Shall I show her into the drawing-room, sir? 



THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 53 

Fedia. 

Wait. I'll go and see. {He goes out.) 

Korotkov. 

Who can it be? Oh, of course, Mashka. 

Stakhov. 

What Mashka? 

Korotkov. 

That gipsy-girl Masha. She's simply mad 
about him. 

Stakhov. 

Nice girl she is. And how she sings ! 

Afremov. 

Beautiful voice. Taniusha and she are won- 
derful. Last night they sang with Peter. 

Stakhov. 
What luck that man has ! 

Afremov. 

What? To have all the women after him? 
That's not much of a blessing ! 

Korotkov. 
I hate these gipsy women. They're so vulgar. 



54 THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 

BUTKEVICH. 

Nonsense ! 

KOROTKOV. 

I would give you the whole lot of them for one 
French woman. 

Afremov. 

Oh, you and your aesthetic views! I must go 
and see who the woman is. {He follows Fedia 
out of the room.) 

Stakhov. 

If it is Masha, bring her in. Let her sing us 
something. The gipsies of to-day are not up to 
the old level. There was a girl — Tania ! A 
devil of a creature. 

Butkevich. 

I expect they are just the same as they were be- 
fore. 

Stakhov. 

Nothing of the sort. Now they've taken to 
singing vulgar ballads, instead of the genuine 
songs they used to in the old days. 

Butkevich. 
There are some very good ballads. 



THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 55 

KOROTKOV. 

If I will tell them what to sing; I bet you won't 
know whether it's a ballad or a folk-song. 

Stakhov. 
Betting is Korotkov's only line of thought. 

Afremov. 

(returning.) The lady is not Masha, gentlemen. 
And she must be shown in here - — there is no other 
place for Fedia to talk with her. Let us go to 
the billiard-room. 

(They all rise and leave the 
room. Fedia and Sasha enter.) 

Sasha. 

(timidly.) Fedia, forgive me if my intrusion an- 
noys you, but for God's sake listen to what I 
have come to tell you. (Her voice trembles.) 
(Fedia paces up and down the room.) 

Sasha. 

(She sits down, looks at him.) Fedia, do come 
home ! 

Fedia. 
Now listen, Sasha. I understand you very 



$6 THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 

well. You are a good girl, and in your place I 
should do just like you — try to mend things. But 
if you were in my place — though it's rather odd 
to imagine such a delicate, sweet girl as you in it 
— if you were in my place, I say, you would have 
done just what I did — you would go, and not be 
in the way of somebody else. 

Sasha. 
In the way of somebody else? But do you 
imagine Lisa can live without you? 

Fedia. 

Certainly, Sasha dear, she can, and she will. 
And she will be happy, much hapier than with me. 

Sasha. 

Never. 

Fedia. 

You are mistaken. (He takes her hand and 
holds it.) But that is not the point. What is 
more important is that I cannot live the old life. 
If you take a piece of cardboard and bend it a 
hundred times, it may hold; but bend just once 
more and it will break. That's the way it was 
with Lisa and me. I cannot look into her eyes. 
And she cannot look in mine. Believe me. It 
hurts us both too much. 



THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 57 

Sasha. 

No, no! 

Fedia. 
You say, No ; but you know I am right. 

Sasha. 

I can only judge by imagining what it would 
be like if I were in her place, and you told me 
what you said just there. It would be awful for 
me. 

Fedia. 
Yes, for you. . . . 

(An uncomfortable pause.) 

Sasha. 
(rising.) Must it be as you say? 

Fedia. 
It must. 

Sasha. 

Come back, Fedia! Come back! 

Fedia. 

You are so kind, Sasha dear! I shall always 
hold you dear in my memory. . . . Good- 
bye, my dear. Let me kiss you. (He kisses her 
on the forehead.) 



58 THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 

Sasha. 

(excited.) No, I don't say good-bye for good. 
I don't believe it's all over. I won't believe it! 
Fedia . . . 

Fedia. 

Listen, Sasha. But promise you will not tell 
anybody what I am going to tell you now. Will 
you give me your word? 

Sasha. 
I won't tell any one. 

Fedia. 

Well, the truth is that, although I am her hus- 
band, the father of her child, I am nothing to 
her. . . . Wait, don't interrupt me. Don't 
imagine I am jealous. I am not. Not in the 
least. First of all, I should have no right to be; 
and then I have no reason. Victor Karenin is her 
old friend, and mine too. He loves her, and she 
loves him. 

Sasha. 

No. 

Fedia. 

She loves him, but being an honest woman, she 
thinks she has no right to love anybody but her 



THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 59 

husband. And yet she loves him, and will give 
way to her feelings for him when this obstacle 
(pointing to himself) is removed. And I will re- 
move it — so that they may be happy. (His voice 
shakes.) 

Sasha. 
Fedia, don't talk in that way. 

Fedia. 

You know quite well it is true. I shall rejoice 
in their happiness. It is the very best thing I 
could do. I shall not go back. I shall give them 
their freedom. Tell them that. No, don't tell 
them anything. And good-bye! (He kisses her 
head and opens the door for her.) 

Sasha. 
Fedia, how I admire you. 

Fedia. 

Good-bye, good-bye! 

(Sasha goes out.) 

Fedia. 

(alone.) That's right, that's all right. (He 
rings the bell. To the servant, who enters.) Call 
your master, (alone.) It must be so. 



60 THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 

Fedia. 
Let us go. 

Afremov. 
[enters.) Well, have you settled things? 

Fedia. 

Oh, yes. In the very best way. Everything is 
perfect now. Where are all the others? 

Afremov. 
They're playing billiards. 

Fedia. 
Let's join them, then. (They go out.) 



ACT III 

Scene I 

Anna Dmitrievna Karenina's boudoir. It 
is a room of elegant simplicity , full of all kinds of 
souvenirs. 

\She is fifty years old, a grande 
dame who tries to look younger, 
and likes to interlard her conversa~ 
Hon with French words.) 



THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 61 

Anna Dmitrievna, Victor Karenin's 
mother, is writing a letter. 

Servant. 

{entering.) Prince Sergius Dmitrievich. 

Anna Dmitrievna. 

Well, ask hirn in, of course. (She turns and 
looks into a mirror, arranging her hair.) 

Prince Abreskov. 

(entering.) I hope I am not in the way. 

(Kisses her hand.) 

(He is a well-preserved bach- 
elor of sixty, with moustache. The 
dignified face of the old soldier has 
a very sad expression.) 

Anna Dmitrievna. 
You Know you are always welcome. And to- 
day more than ever. You got my note? 

Prince Abreskov. 
I did — and here I am. 

Anna Dmitrievna. 

Oh, my dear friend, I begin to lose hope. He 
is bewitched, positively bewitched. I never 
thought he could be so obstinate, so heartless and 



62 THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 

indifferent towards me. He is quite changed since 
that woman left her husband. 

Prince Abreskov. 
How do matters stand now? 

Anna Dmitrievna. 
Well, he wants to marry her at all costs. 

Prince Abreskov. 
But how about her husband? 

Anna Dmitrievna. 
He consents to be divorced. 

Prince Abreskov. 
Oh! Is that so? 

Anna Dmitrievna. 

Victor is willing to put up with all the ugliness 
of the divorce court. Lawyers, evidence of guilt. 
. . . All this is disgusting. And he does not 
mind ! I cannot understand it. He with his deli- 
cacy, his timidity. 

Prince Abreskov. 

He is in love. And when a man is truly in 
love — 



THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 63 

Anna Dmitrievna. 
Yes, but in our time love was a pure friend- 
ship which lasted a lifetime. Such love I can un- 
derstand and value. 

Prince Abreskov. 

Nowadays, ideal love does not exist any more. 
La possession de I'dme ne leur suffit plus. That 
is a fact, and we cannot change it. But what 
about Victor? 

Anna Dmitrievna. 
No, he is not like the rest. But this is posi- 
tively witchcraft. He is changed, I tell you. 
You know I called on them — he asked me to — I 
didn't find them at home, and I left a card. She 
asks if I will receive her. And to-day {she looks 
at the watch) about two — it is nearly that now 
— she will be here. I promised Victor to receive 
her, but you may imagine in what a state I am. 
I feel quite lost. So, true to my old habit, I have 
sent for you to come. I am in such need of your 
help ! 

Prince Abreskov. 
You are very good. 

Anna Dmitrievna. 
You will understand. You must see that her 



64 THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 

visit means the final decision, don't you? Victor's 
whole future depends on it. I must either refuse 
my consent . . . but how can I? 

Prince Abreskov. 
Don't you know her at all ? 

Anna Dmitrievna. 

I have never seen her. But I am afraid of her. 
A good woman cannot leave her husband — and 
such a good man too. He is Victor's friend — did 
you know that? He often came to us. I thought 
him very nice. But whatever he might be, what- 
ever wrong he has done her, a wife ought not 
to leave her husband. She must bear her cross. 
There is one thing I can't possibly grasp: how 
could Victor, with his religious views, make up his 
mind to marry a divorced woman? I have heard 
him say over and over again — once quite lately 
to Spitzin — that divorce is not consistent with the 
true Christian doctrine. And now he is in favour 
of it. If she has been able to fascinate him to this 
point . . . ! I am afraid of her. How silly 
of me to talk all the time like this. I asked you 
to come so as to have your view of the situation. 
What do you think? Tell me. Have you spoken 
to Victor? 



THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 6s 

Prince Abreskov. 
I have. And my opinion is that he loves her. 
He's already got into the habit of loving her, so 
to speak. Love has taken hold him. He is a 
man who opens his heart slowly — but then for 
good. He will never love any other woman, and 
he could not be happy with any other woman but 
her. 

Anna Dmitrievna. 

And Varia Kasanzeva, who would gladly have 
married him ! Such a nice girl, and so devoted to 
him! 

Prince Abreskov. 

You are counting your chickens before they are 
hatched. That's quite out of question now. I 
think the only thing for you is to consent, and to 
help him to marry. 

Anna Dmitrievna. 

To marry a divorced woman! And suppose 
that afterwards he were to meet his wife's first 
husband somewhere ! How can you calmly sug- 
gest such a thing ! Could any mother wish to see 
her only son — and such a son — married like 
that? 

Prince Abreskov. 

My dear friend, it cannot be helped. Of course 



66 THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 

it would be nicer if he married a young girl you 
know and you like, but he will not. Besides — 
imagine if he had married a gipsy girl or . . . 
And Lisa Protassova is a very nice woman. I 
have met her at my niece Nelly's. She is a very 
sweet, kind, loving, moral woman. 

Anna Dmitrievna. 

Moral, indeed! A woman who has left her 
husband ! 

Prince Abreskov. 

How unlike you to speak so! How cruel. 
Her husband is one of those men of whom one 
may say that they are their worst enemies. But 
certainly he is a worse enemy of his wife than of 
himself. He is a weak man, a perfect wreck, a 
drunkard. He has squandered his own fortune 
and all that she possessed; she has a child. And 
you condemn her for having left such a man. 
And besides, it was not she, it was he who left her. 

Anna Dmitrievna. 

Oh, the ugliness of it all! And that I should 
have to take part in it! 

Prince Abreskov. 
What is it that the gospel says? 



THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 67 
Anna Dmitrievna. 

Yes, I know. Forgive us as we forgive those 
who trespass against us. But this is beyond me ! 

Prince Abreskov. 

How could she go on living with such a man? 
Even if she had not loved any one else she would 
have had to leave him. She had to do it for her 
child's sake. Her husband himself, a clever and 
kind man when he is in his senses, advised her to 
leave him. 

(Victor comes in. He kisses 
his mother's hand, and shakes 
hands with Prince Abreskov.) 

Victor. 

Mother, I have come to tell you that Elizaveta 
Andreevna will be here presently. I will tell the 
servant to show her in. There is only one 
thing I ask you. If you are still opposed to my 
marrying her — 

Anna Dmitrievna. 
{interrupting him.) Most certainly I am. 

Victor. 

{continues frowning.) Then don't speak about 
it, I beseech you ! Don't inflict a refusal upon her. 



68 THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 
Anna Dmitrievna. 

We shall not speak about that, I suppose. 
Anyhow, I shall not start the topic. 

Victor. 

Nor will she. I only want you to know her. 

Anna Dmitrievna. 

One thing I cannot understand: how do you 
reconcile your wish to marry Madame Protassova, 
whose husband is alive, with your condemnation 
of divorce from the Christian point of view? You 
— so religious ! 

Victor. 

Mother, that is cruel! Are we all so unim- 
peachable that, in this complex world, there is no 
discrepancy between our convictions and our prac- 
tice? Why are you so unkind to me, mother? 

Anna Dmitrievna. 
I love you. I want you to be happy ! 

Victor. 
(to Prince Abreskov.) Sergius Dmitrievich! 
Prince Abreskov. 
I don't doubt you want him to be happy. But 



THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 69 

grey heads like ours are unable to know what 
passes in the minds of youth. Least of all, a 
mother who has her settled ideas about her son's 
happiness. On that point women are all alike. 

Anna Dmitrievna. 

Indeed ! I ought to have known you would all 
be against me. Of course you are free to do as 
you like. You are of age. But it will kill me. 

Victor. 

I do not recognise you. It is worse than cruel 
to talk like that. 

Prince Abreskov. 

(to Victor.) Don't talk like that, Victor. You 
know that your mother does not act as she speaks. 

Anna Dmitrievna. 

I shall speak exactly as I think and feel, but 
without hurting her feelings. 

Prince Abreskov. 

I am quite sure of that. 

Servant. 

(enters.) Here she is. 

Victor. 
I'll go. 



7 o THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 

Servant. 

Elizaveta Andreevna Protassova. 

Victor. 

I'll go, mother. I beseech you — 

(Prince Abreskov rises.) 

Anna Dmitrievna. 

Ask the lady in. (To Prince Abreskov.) 
Don't go. 

Prince Abreskov. 

I thought you would prefer to talk with her 
tete-a-tete. 

Anna Dmitrievna. 

No, I am afraid. (Fussing about.) If I want 
to be with her alone I will signal to you. That 
depends . . . But at the moment I should 
feel uncomfortable alone with her. When I want 
you to leave the room I will do like that. (She 
makes a sign.) 

Prince Abreskov. 

I shall know. I am sure you will like her. 
Only be just I 

Anna Dmitrievna. 
Oh, you are all against me ! 

(Lisa, in hat and visiting dress, 
comes into the room.) 



THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 71 

Anna Dmitrievna. 

(rising.) I was so sorry you were not at home 
when I called. It is so kind of you to come to see 
me. 

Lisa. 

I did not expect — thank you so much for wish- 
ing to see me. 

Anna Dmitrievna. 

You have met before, I believe? (Pointing to 
Prince Abreskov.) 

Prince Abreskov. 

Yes, I have had the honour of making Madame 
Protassova's acquaintance. (He shakes hands 
with Lisa. They sit down.) I have heard so 
much about you from my niece Nelly. 

Lisa. 

We have always been great friends. (Looking 
shyly at Anna Dmitrievna.) And we still are. 
(To Anna Dmitrievna.) I did not expect you 
would want to see me. 

Anna Dmitrievna. 

I knew your husband very well. He was a 
great friend of my son's, and often came to our 



72 THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 

house before he left for Tambov. I believe it 
was there he married you? 

Lisa. 
Yes, we were married there. 

Anna Dmitrievna. 

But afterwards, when he came back to Moscow, 
he stopped coming to see me. 

Lisa. 
He used hardly to go anywhere. 

Anna Dmitrievna. 

And he never brought you to me. 

(An awkward silence.) 

Prince Abreskov. 

The last time I saw you was at an amateur per- 
formance at Denisov's. It was a charming af- 
fair. You were acting in the play. 

Lisa. 

No — ■ oh, yes, I acted. I had almost forgotten. 
(Pause.) Anna Dmitrievna, forgive me if what 
I am going to say displeases you. But I can't 
pretend; I am really unable to. I came because 
Victor Mikhailovich told me « . . because 



THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 73 

. . . he told me you would like to see me. 
. . . But it is better if you tell me. . . 
{Overpowered by tears.) I am very unhappy, 
and you are kind. 

Prince Abreskov. 
I think I had better go. 

Anna Dmitrievna. 
Yes, go. 

Prince Abreskov. 

Good-bye. {He shakes hands with both the 
ladies, and goes out.) 

Anna Dmitrievna. 

Listen, Lisa ... I don't know your fath- 
er's name — No, no, no, that doesn't matter. 

Lisa. 
Andreevna. 

Anna Dmitrievna. 
No matter. Lisa! I pity you, I sympathise 
with you. But I love Victor. He is all I love 
on earth. I know his soul as if it was my own. 
He is proud. He was proud even as a boy of 
seven. He is proud not of his name, not of riches, 
but proud of his purity, his high ideals. He never 
swerved from them. He is as pure as an innocent 
girl. 



74 THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 

Lisa. 
I know. 

Anna Dmitrievna. 

He has never loved a woman before. You 
are the first. I don't say I am not jealous of you 
— I am. Yes, I am. But we mothers — your 
son is still a baby, you can't know yet — we are 
prepared for it. I was prepared to surrender him 
to his future wife, and I made up my mind not to 
be jealous. But I expected her to be as pure as 
he is. 

Lisa. 
I . . . Do you . . . 

Anna Dmitrievna. 

Forgive me. I know it is not your fault. I 
know you are unhappy. But I know him. Now, 
he is ready to bear anything, and he will bear it 
without ever saying a word; but he will suffer. 
His pride will be wounded and will suffer, and he 
will never be happy. 

Lisa. 
I have thought about that. 

Anna Dmitrievna. 
Lisa, dear! You are such a clever, good 



THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 75 

woman, and if you love him you certainly want 
his happiness more than your own. And if so, 
you can't wish to bind him so that he would be 
sorry afterwards. He would never, oh never, 
say so, but he would be. 

Lisa. 

He would not, I know. I have thought so 
much about it, and have asked myself what I ought 
to do. I have discussed it with him quite openly. 
But what am I to do if he says he cannot live 
without me? I told him, let us be friends, but 
don't bind up your pure life with mine, which is 
wretched. But he does not see it from the same 
standpoint. 

Anna Dmitrievna. 

Of course, he would not at the moment. 

Lisa. 
Persuade him not to marry me. I will agree. 
I only want his happiness, not mine. But help 
me! Don't hate me. Let us join in making him 
happy. 

Anna Dmitrievna. 

I think I love you already. (She kisses her. 
Lisa bursts into tears.) And yet it is so horrible. 
If only he had fallen in love with you before you 
married — 



76 THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 

Lisa. 

He says he loved me then, but thought it wrong 
to stand in the way of another man's happiness. 

Anna Dmitrievna. 

Oh, how unfortunate it all is I But let us love 
each other, and God will help us to attain what 
we wish. 

Victor. 

(entering.) Mother dear! I have heard all you 
have been talking about. I knew it would be so. 
I knew you would love her. So now everything 
will be all right. 

Lisa. 

I am sorry you were listening. If I had known, 
I should not have spoken like that. 

Anna Dmitrievna. 

But, after all, nothing is decided yet. All I can 
say is that I would have been very happy — if it 
had not been for all these sad circumstances. 
(She kisses her.) 

Victor. 
Don't change your mind, please — that is all I 
ask you. 



THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 77 

Scene II 

A room in a cheap fiat; a bed, writing-table, 
sofa are all the furniture. Fedia is alone. There 
is a knock at the door. A Woman' s voice is 
heard outside: — 

Why have you locked yourself in, Fedor Vasilie- 
vich? Open the door, Fedia. 

Fedia. 

(opening the door.) I am so glad you have come. 
I am so bored, so frightfully bored. 

Masha. 
Why didn't you come to us? Drunk again? 

Fedia. 
You know, I — 

Masha. 
Oh, what a fool I am to love you! 

Fedia. 
Masha ! 

Masha. 
Masha, indeed ! If you cared for me the least 



78 THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 

bit, you would have been divorced by now. They 
want it too — you know they do. You go on 
saying you don't love her, but you stick to her all 
the same. You don't want to be divorced. I can 
see that. 

Fedia. 
You know why I don't. 

Masha. 

Nonsense! People are perfectly right when 
they say there is no depending on you. 

Fedia. 

What can I say? It hurts, your saying all that. 
You know it yourself. 

Masha. 
Nothing can hurt you. 

Fedia. 

You know perfectly well that my only joy in life 
is in your love. 

Masha. 

My love is all right. But you *— - you don't love 
me. 



THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 79 
Fedia. 
You know I do. I don't need to tell you that. 

Masha. 
Then why are you so cruel to me ? 

Fedia. 
Cruel? I? Can you say that? 

Masha. 
(bursting into tears.) You are so unkind! 

Fedia. 

(coming close to her and embracing her,) Don't 
cry, Masha! Don't cry. Life is worth living. 
Why be miserable? It is so unlike you, my beau- 
tiful one! 

Masha. 
You do love me? 

Fedia. 
Whom else could I love? 

Masha. 

Me, only me? And now read what you have 
written. 



8o THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 

Fedia. 
It will bore you. 

Masha. 
Anything you write must be fine. 

Fedia. 

Well, listen. {Reads.) " Late in the autumn 
we decided, my friend and I, to meet at the Mari- 
gin fort. There stood a castle with small tur- 
rets. The night was dark and warm. The 
fog . . ." 

(Ivan Makarovich, an old 
gipsy, and his wife, NASTASSIA 
Ivanovna — Masha's parents 
— enter.) 

Nastassia Ivanovna. 

{coming close to her daughter.) Oh, you are 
here, you, cursed sheep ! (To Fedia.) No dis- 
respect to you, sir. {To Masha.) But you — 
how can you treat us like this ? 

Ivan Makarovich. 
{to Fedia.) It's very wrong of you, sir, to ruin 
a girl. It's wrong, it's ugly. 

Nastassia Ivanovna. 
Put on your shawl, and be gone from here. 
How did you dare to run away like that? What 



THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 81 

am I to say to the others? To keep company with 
a beggar ! He can't give you a penny. 

Masha. 

I have not done anything wrong. I love Fedor 
Vasilievich — that is all. I'm not abandoning the 
others. I will sing as before. But as to — 

Ivan Makarovich. 

Shut up, or I will pull your hair out. You 
ought to respect your parents, you ought. — It's 
wicked of you to do that, sir ! We all loved you ; 
we pitied you. How many times we used to sing 
to you just for nothing! And that is how you 
behave ! 

Nastassia Ivanovna. 

You have ruined my daughter, my only one ; my 
darling, my pearl, my priceless treasure ! Dragged 
her down into the mud, that's what you have 
done ! You've got no fear of God in your heart ! 

Fedia. 

Nastassia Ivanovna, you are mistaken. Don't 
think me wicked. I consider your daughter just 
like my sister. I hold her honour dear. Don't 
be afraid. I love her, that is true. But that 
can't be helped. 



82 THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 
Ivan Makarovich. 

Why did you not love her when you had money? 
You ought to have paid down ten thousand roubles 
to us, and then you could have had her without any 
disgrace. That is what all respectable men do. 
But to steal her away like that, after having squan- 
dered all you had ! You ought to be ashamed, sir. 

Masha. 

He did not take me away, I came to him. And, 
if you take me away from him now, I will come 
back. I love him — that's all. Lock me up! 
My love will be stronger than all your bolts. I 
won't obey you. 

Nastassia Ivanovna. 

Don't be cross, Mashenka, darling. You have 
done wrong. Now do come with us. 

Ivan Makarovich. 

Shut up, Masha. {He takes her by the hand.) 
Good-bye, sir. 

{All three go out together. 
Prince Abreskov comes in.) 

Prince Abreskov. 

Forgive me. I have been — quite by chance 
— a witness of this unpleasant incident. 



THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 83 
Fedia. 

With whom have I the honour — . (Recognis- 
ing him.) Oh, Prince Sergius Dmitrievich! 

Prince Abreskov. 

I have been the witness of what has just oc- 
curred. I did not desire to hear, but as I did 
hear, I am bound in duty to tell you so. I was 
shown in — the loudness of the voices evidently 
drowned my repeated knocking — consequently I 
had to wait till your visitors were gone. 

Fedia. 

Oh, that's all right. Won't you sit down? I'm 
obliged to you for telling me, as it gives me an op- 
portunity to explain to you what it was all about. 
What you think of me does not in the least con- 
cern me. But I should tell you this girl, a young 
gipsy singer, has done nothing to deserve the scene 
you witnessed. She is as pure as a dove. And 
my only relations with her are friendly — friendly, 
and nothing more. Poetical they may be — that 
does not affect her purity, her honour. I am glad 
to have told you that. But tell me, what is it you 
want of me? What can I do for you? 

Prince Abreskov. 
I must tell you first of all — < 



84 THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 
Fedia. 

Forgive me, Prince. My position in society is 
now such that my having known you slightly long 
ago does not entitle me to a visit from you without 
some special reason for your wanting to see me. 
What is that reason? 

Prince Abreskov. 

You are quite right — I will not deny there is. 
I have come for a special reason. But I beg you 
to believe that whatever change there may be in 
your social position, it does not affect my esteem 
for you. 

Fedia. 
I am quite sure of that. 

Prince Abreskov. 

Well, what I have to say is that the son of my 
old friend, Anna Dmitrievna Karenina, and she 
herself, have asked me to apply directly to you in 
order to know what your relations are now — if 
you allow me to speak of the matter — with your 
wife, Elizaveta Andreevna Protassova. 

Fedia. 

My relations with my wife, my former wife I 
may say, have entirely ceased. 



THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 85 

Prince Abreskov. 

So I understood. And that is why I consented 
to come upon so delicate a mission. 

Fedia. 

Let me hasten to add that the fault is not hers, 
but mine; in fact, my faults are endless. She 
remains what she always has been, the most spot- 
less of wives and of women. 

Prince Abreskov. 

Victor Karenin, and especially his mother, are 
anxious to know what you intend to do now. I 
am to ask you about that. 

Fedia. 

{excitedly.) I have no intentions whatever. I 
leave my wife entirely free. I wish it to be un- 
derstood that I will never stand in her way in any- 
thing. I know she loves Victor Karenin, and I 
have no objection at all. I think him rather a 
bore, but a perfectly nice and respectable man; 
and I am sure — as the saying is — that she will 
be happy with him. And God bless them. That 
is all I have to say. 

Prince Abreskov- 
Yes, but we — 



86 THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 
Fedia. 

(interrupting him.) Don't imagine I am in the 
least jealous. I said Victor was a bore, but I take 
that back. He is an excellent, an honest, and 
moral man — almost the exact opposite of me. 
He has loved her from her youth up. Perhaps 
she was in love with him too when she became 
my wife. This has been her real love, the one of 
which people are often not aware. And I think 
she never ceased to love him, though being an 
honest woman, she did not confess it even to her- 
self. But it has hovered as something of a 
shadow over our married life. . . . No, 
really, I think I ought not to make such confessions 
to you. 

Prince Abreskov. 

Please don't stop short of anything you can tell 
me. Believe me, my real object in coming to you 
was just to gain a clear insight into your relations 
with your wife. I quite understand what you 
mean. I see that a sort of shadow, as you have 
so well put it, may have existed. 

Fedia. 

Yes, it existed; and perhaps that is why I was 
not satisfied with my life at home. I kept trying 
to find satisfaction elsewhere, and indulged in all 



THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 87 

sorts of passions. Why talk about it ? I must seem 
to you to be trying to exculpate myself, and I 
don't want that. Besides, there is no excuse what- 
ever for me. I have been a bad husband. I say 
I have been, now I no longer am her husband. I 
consider her entirely free. That is my answer, 
which you may take back to them. 

Prince Abreskov. 

That is very well, but you know the principles 
of Victor and his mother. His relations with 
Elizaveta Andreevna have been throughout most 
respectful and distant, and remain so now. He 
has tried to help her in her troubles — that is all. 

Fedia. 

Yes, and my vices have only helped their inti- 
macy to ripen. Well, I suppose it could not be 
helped. 

Prince Abreskov. 

You know the strict religious principles of Vic- 
tor and his mother. I don't agree with them on 
that point. I have broader views. But I under- 
stand and respect their feelings. I understand 
that he, and his mother even more than he, could 
not think of his union with a woman without the 
consecration of the church. 



88 THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 

Fedia. 
Yes, I know how conservative he is in that re- 
spect. But what do they want? Divorce? I 
have already told them that I consent to be di- 
vorced. But to plead guilty, and pass through all 
the lies connected with the proceedings — that 
would be hard indeed. 

Prince Abreskov. 
I quite agree with you. Only there is no choice 
left. We must manage it somehow. But, of 
course, you are quite right, and I understand you. 

Fedia. 
(pressing his hand.) Thank you, my dear Prince, 
thank you. I always knew you were kind and 
just. Tell me, what ought I to do? Consider 
my position. I don't pretend to be better than I 
really am. I am a scoundrel. But there are 
things which I cannot do calmly. I cannot tell 
lies. 

Prince Abreskov. 
I must say you are a puzzle to me. You are 
a gifted, a clever man, with a fine sense of moral 
duty. How could you have been so carried away 
by your passions? How could you forget what 
was due to yourself? How has your life come 
to this point? Why, why have you ruined your- 
self? 



THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 89 

Fedia. 
(mastering his tears.) For the past ten years I 
have led my present dissipated life, and for the 
first time I find a man like you to pity me. My 
friends, rakes like myself, pity me, women pity me; 
but a clever, a kind man like you . . . ! 
Thank you! How have I ruined myself? In 
the first place — alcohol. It is not that I enjoy 
the taste of wine. But it prevents one thinking. 
When I think, or when my senses are awake, I 
feel that everything is different from what it ought 
to be, and I am ashamed. I am ashamed now in 
talking to you. Anything like being an official, 
or having a place in a bank — seems to me abso- 
lutely shameful. Well, the moment I begin to 
drink, my shame is gone. And then music — not 
operas or Beethoven, but gipsy songs — fills you 
with new energy, makes you live a new life. And 
when a pair of black eyes and a smiling face are 
near you — But the more entrancing it all is, 
the more you feel ashamed afterwards. 

Prince Abreskov. 
And work? 

Fedia. 
I have tried. No work satisfies me. But 
don't let us talk about me. Anyhow, I thank you 
with all my heart. 



90 THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 
Prince Abreskov. 
Well, what answer am I to take them? 

Fedia. 

Tell them I am willing to do as they wish. 
They want to marry, and there must be nothing 
in their way. That is so? 

Prince Abreskov. 
Yes, of course. 

Fedia. 

I will see to it. Tell them I will ; they may rely 
on me. 

Prince Abreskov. 
When? 

Fedia. 

Wait a moment — let us say they will be free 
in a fortnight. Will that do? 

Prince Abreskov. 
May I say that you give them your word? 

Fedia. 

You may. Good-bye, Prince. Thank you once 
more. 

(Prince Abreskov goes out.) 



THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 91 

Fedia. 
(sits a long while silent, then smiles.) Good, 
good! That's right. That's right. Very good 
indeed. 



ACT IV 

Scene I 

A private room in a restaurant. FEDIA is 
shown in by a Waiter. 

Waiter. 

This way, sir. You will be all by yourself; no 
one will disturb you. I will bring you some paper 
at once. 

Ivan Petrovich Alexandrov. 

(appearing in the doorway.) Protassov, do you 
mind if I come in? 

Fedia. 

(very serious.) You may, if you like. But I 
am busy, and — All right, come in. 

Ivan Petrovich. 

You are going to write an answer to their de- 
mands. I will tell you what you ought to tell 



92 THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 

them. Don't you spare them. To say straight 
out what you mean, and to act resolutely; that's 
my system. 

Fedia. 

(to the waiter.) A bottle of champagne. 

(The Waiter goes outi) 

Fedia. 

(taking a revolver out of his -pocket and putting it 
on the table.) Wait a bit. 

Ivan Petrovich. 

What's that? Going to shoot yourself? Of 
course! Why not? I understand you. They 
mean to humiliate you, and you will show them 
who you are — put a bullet through your head and 
crush them by your magnanimity. I understand 
you. I understand everything and everybody, be- 
cause I am a genius. 

Fedia. 

Yes, or" course. But — * 

(The Waiter returns with ink 
F and paper.) 

Fedia. 

(putting a napkin over the revolver?) Open the 
bottle. (The Waiter opens the bottle, then 



THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 93 

goes.) Let us have a drink first. (They drink. 
Fedia sits down and begins to write a letter.) 
Wait a moment. 

Ivan Petrovich. 

I drink to your — great journey. I am above 
that. I won't try to dissuade you. Life and 
death are all the same to me. I die in life, and I 
live in death. You want to kill yourself, so that 
those two may be sorry for it and miss you badly. 
And I — I will kill myself for the world to realise 
what it has lost. I won't hesitate; I won't con- 
sider and reconsider it. I will just take the re- 
volver (snatching the revolver from the table.) 
One, two — and all will be over. But the right 
moment has not yet come. (He puts the revolver 
back.) And why should I instruct them? They 
ought to understand things by themselves. Oh, 
you. . . . 

Fedia. 

(writing.) Wait a moment. 

Ivan Petrovich. 

Contemptible creatures, who fuss about and un- 
derstand nothing ! Nothing whatever ! I'm not 
speaking to you — I'm only expressing my 
thoughts to myself. And what is it that humanity 
is in need of? Not much; only to prize its gen- 



94 THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 

iuses instead of persecuting them as it does, and 
making their life a perpetual agony. No; I won't 
be your plaything any more. I will denounce you 
all, hypocrites that you are ! 

Fedia. 

(having finished his letter, drinks a glass of cham- 
pagne, and reads what he has written.) Now 
please, go! 

Ivan Petrovich. 

Go? All right, I'll go. Anyhow, I don't hold 
you back from what you have decided to do. I 
shall do so too. But the time has not yet come. 
I only wanted to tell you — 

Fedia. 

All right, you can tell me later. Now listen: 
will you, please, give this to the manager (handing 
him some money), and ask him for a letter and a 
parcel that have probably been sent here in my 
name ? Will you do that ? 

Ivan Petrovich. 

I will. Then you promise to wait for me? I 
will tell you something very important, something 
the like of which you will not hear, neither in this 
world nor in that to come — at least, not till I get 
there. Am I to give him all this money? 



THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 95 
Fedia. 

Let him take what I owe him. 

(Ivan Petrovich goes out.) 

Fedia. 

(sighs with a sense of relief, locks the door, takes 
the revolver, cocks it, puts it close to his temple, 
then shivers, and lets his hand drop with great 
precaution. Groans.) No, I cannot, I cannot! 
(There is a knock at the door.) 
Who is there? 

Mas ha' s voice outside. 
It is I. 

Fedia. 

Who: "I?" Oh, Masha! (He opens the 
door. ) 

Masha. 
(entering.) I called at your place, then at Pop- 
pov's, at Afremov's, and then I thought, at last, 
I might find you here. (Seeing the revolver.) 
Ah, what's that? You fool! You regular fool! 
Could you really — 

Fedia. 
No, I could not. 

Masha. 
And I? Am I something to you or not? You 



96 THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 

heartless wretch ! You have no pity for me ! It 
is a great sin, Fedor Vasilievich, to treat me like 
that. A great sin ! That is what I get now for 
all my love! 

Fedia. 

I wanted to release them. I promised to. And 
I can't tell lies. 

Masha. 

And what about me? 

Fedia. 

Oh, you ! You would have felt it a deliverance 
too. Is it better for you to go on being so mis- 
erable on account of me? 

Masha. 
Of course it is. I cannot live without you. 

Fedia. 

And with me your life is no life at all. When 
I was dead, you would have cried over me, but 
after a while you would feel much the better for 
my loss. 

Masha. 

I shouldn't have cried at all. The devil may 
take you for all I care, if you have no pity for me. 
(She bursts into tears.) 



THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 97 

Fedia. 

Masha, darling ! I only thought it would have 
been better. 

Masha. 

Better for you, I dare say. 

Fedia. 

(smiling.) Why for me? I was going to kill 
myself. 

Masha. 

It's just selfishness, that's all. But I wish I 
knew what you wanted. 

Fedia. 
What? A great many things. 

Masha. 
Well, what? 

Fedia. 

First of all, I must keep my promise. All 
alone, this is too much for me. How can I tell 
lies ? How can I stand all the ugliness of the di- 
vorce ? How can I ? 

Masha. 
There you are right. It is ugly. I myself — 



98 THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 

Fedia. 

And then they have to be delivered in some 
way or other. No doubt of that. My wife and 
he must be free. They are kind, good people, 
both of them. Why must they suffer? That is 
my second reason. 

Masha. 

I don't think she's as kind as that, if she has for- 
saken you. 

Fedia. 

It was all my fault, not hers. 

Masha. 

Your fault, indeed! Everything is your fault 
— of course, she is an angel. Well, what else is 
there? 

Fedia. 

Well, this. You are a good girl — yes, you 
are. And if I live, I shall make you miserable. 

Masha. 

That is no concern of yours. I am lost anyhow. 
I know that. 

Fedia. 
(sighing.) And the chief, the very chief reason, 
lies in myself. You think I don't see that I am 



THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 99 

good for nothing, a burden to everybody and to 
myself too, as your father said. I am no good. 

Masha. 
Nonsense! You won't get me to leave you. 
I shall stick to you, and there is an end of it. 
And as to your leading a bad life, drinking and 
smoking — you are a living soul. Change ; give 
it all up. 

Fedia. 
It's easy for you to say it. 

Masha. 
Do as I say. 

Fedia. 

When I look at your face, I think I could do 
everything you ask me. 

Masha. 

And you will. You will do it all. (She sees 
the letter.) What is that? YouVe written to 
them. What have you said? 

Fedia. 

I wrote what I had to. (He takes the letter, 
is about to tear it.) Now it is of no use. 



ioo THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 

Masha. 

(snatching the letter from him.) You've written 
that you were going to kill yourself? Did you 
say you would shoot yourself, or just kill yourself, 
without saying how? 

Fedia. 
I've written that I won't live any longer. 

Masha. 

Give me that letter. Have you read the fa- 
mous novel, " What are We to Do? " 

Fedia. 
I think I have. 

Masha. 

It's not an entertaining book, I must say, but one 
thing I liked in it. Do you remember that man 
— what is his name? Ramanov — who made- 
believe he was drowned? You can't swim, can 
you? 

Fedia. 

No. 

Masha. 

Very good, then. Give me your coat. Give 
me your notebook, and all those things. 



THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 101 

Fedia. 
What an idea ! 

Masha. 

No, wait. Let us go home, and you will put 
on other clothes. 

Fedia. 
But that will be a fraud. 

Masha. 

Let it be a fraud. You went to have a bathe 
in the river; you left your clothes on the bank. 
The notebook and this letter will be found in your 
pocket. 

Fedia. 
And then? 

Masha. 

Then? Then we'll clear out, and witt begin 
a new and happy life. 

Ivan Petrovich. 
(returning.) I say! May I take the revolver? 

Masha. 
Yes, take it. We are off. 



102 THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 

Scene II 
The drawing-room at Lisa Protassova's. 

Karenin. 

He promised so definitely that I was sure he 
would keep his word. 

Lisa. 

I feel ashamed to say it, but really, hearing of 
that gipsy girl has made me feel quite free from 
him. Don't think I was jealous. No, I simply 
felt free. And — I don't know how to put it 
into words, Victor Mikhailovich — 

Karenin. 

{smiling.) Why do you speak to me in that for- 
mal way? 

Lisa. 

Well then, Victor. But don't interrupt me. I 
want to tell you exactly how I feel. What dis- 
tressed me most of all was that I somehow felt I 
loved two men at the same time. It seemed to 
me so wicked, so frightfully immoral. 

Karenin. 
Immoral! You immoral! 



THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 103 

Lisa. 

But since I have come to know that there was 
another woman he loved, and that he has no more 
need of me, I feel quite free. I know now that I 
can tell you truly that I love you, and you alone. 
Now my mind is perfectly clear. I only suffer 
from my position. This divorce is so awful. And 
how agonising to wait for it! 

Karenin. 

All that will be over presently. He has prom- 
ised to do all that is necessary; and besides, I 
asked the secretary of the Synod to call on him 
with the petition, and not to go before he has 
signed it. If I did not know him as well as I do, 
I should have thought he was dragging the whole 
business out on purpose. 

Lisa. 

Oh no, indeed he is not. It is only that he is 
so weak and so honest. He was always so. He 
hates saying what is untrue. But I am sorry you 
have sent him money. You ought not to have 
done that. 

Karenin. 

I had to. Want of money for expenses would 
have meant further delay. 



104 THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 
Lisa. 
Yes, but it is so unpleasant. 

Karenin. 
I don't think he has any right to be fastidious. 

Lisa. 
What egoists we are becoming. 

Karenin. 

That is true — but then, it is partly your fault. 
You made me wait so long, you have driven me 
to such despair, that now I can't help saying how 
happy I am. Happiness is very selfish. That is 
your fault, darling. 

Lisa. 

Do you think it is only you who feel happy? 
I do too. I am full of bliss, overwhelmed by it.. 
Now my boy has recovered, and your mother is 
fond of me, and you — and what makes my great- 
est joy — I love you so dearly. 

Karenin. 

Do you? You won't have any regrets? You 
won't go back on your decision? 



THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 105 
Lisa. 

No. Ever since that day I have been a changed 
being. 

Karenin. 

You won't change back again? 

Lisa. 

Never, never. My only wish is that you should 
forget the past as completely as I have done. 

( The Nurse enters with the hoy, 
who goes to his mother. She takes 
him on her knees.) 

Karenin. 
What a miserable thing man's nature is I 

Lisa. 
Why do you say that? {She kisses the child.) 

Karenin. 

When you married, and I heard about it on my 
return from abroad and was so unhappy because 
I had lost you, it was at least a great joy to learn 
that you just remembered me. That was enough 
for me. After that, when we became friends and 



106 THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 

you were kind to me — when I felt that there was 
just a spark of something more than mere friend- 
ship in our relations — I was almost happy. I 
was only afraid — and I suffered from it a good 
deal — that it was unfair to Fedia. But as I was 
firmly convinced there could not be anything more 
than pure friendship between me and the wife of 
my friend — and besides, I knew what you were 
— I was not greatly disturbed. On the whole I 
was content. Then, when Fedia began to cause 
you so much trouble, and I felt that I was your 
support and that you somehow feared my friend- 
ship, I was completely happy, and a vague hope 
arose in my soul. And when Fedia became quite 
impossible and you resolved to leave him, when I 
told you for the first time I loved you and you did 
not say " No," but left me in tears, then my hap- 
piness was complete. If anybody had asked me 
then what I desired more, I should have answered, 
Nothing. But after that, the possibility arose of 
uniting my life with yours ; my mother grew fond 
of you, my hope began to be realised. You told 
me you loved me before, and you go on loving me; 
now you say he does not exist for you and you love 
only me — what else could I wish? But no, just 
now I suffer because of the past. I wish it had 
not existed, I wish there were nothing that could 
remind me of him. 



THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 107 
Lisa. 
{reproachfully.) O Victor! 

Karenin. 

Forgive me, Lisa. If I tell you all this, it is 
because I ought not to have a thought that I hide 
from you. I tell you to show you how bad I am ; 
to show you that I know I must overcome such 
feelings. And I have already overcome them. 
I love him. 

Lisa. 

I am so glad. I did all I could. And I can't 
help it if my heart underwent the change that you 
longed for. There is nothing left in it — except 
you. 

Karenin. 

Nothing but me? 

Lisa. 
Nothing. Or else I would not say so. 

Servant. 
{entering.) Mr. Vosnessensky. 

Karenin. 
Oh, he must have Fedia's answer. 



1 08 THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 

Lisa. 
(to Karenin.) Ask him in. 

(The Servant goes out.) 

Karenin. 

(rising and going to the door.) You see, the an- 
swer has come at once. 

Lisa. 

(passing the child to the Nurse.) I can hardly 
believe, Victor, that it will be settled as we wish. 
(She kisses the child. Nurse 
takes it away.) 

(Vosnessensky enters.) 



Well? 

He was not in 



Karenin. 
Vosnessensky. 



Karenin. 
Not in? Then the petition is not yet signed? 

Vosnessensky. 

No ; it is not. But there is a letter from him, 
addressed to you and Elizaveta Andreevna. 
(He takes a letter out of his pocket and gives it 



THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 109 

to Karenin.) I called at his house, and was told 
that he had gone to a restaurant. They gave me 
the address. I went there and found Fedor Vas- 
ilievich, who asked me to call for the answer in 
an hour. I called and — 

Karenin. 

This is too bad! He is trying again to gain 
time by inventing all sorts of excuses. How low 
he has sunk! 

Lisa. 

Read the letter. What does he say? 

(Karenin opens the letter.) 

VOSNESSENSKY. 

Do you want me any more ? 

Karenin. 

No. Good-bye. I thank you for — {He 
stops in the middle of the sentence, amazed by 
what he reads in the letter.) 

(VOSNESSENSKY goes OUt.) 

Lisa. 
What is the matter? What is in that letter? 

Karenin. 
Horrible ! Horrible ! 



no THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 

Lisa. 
(rushing to seize the letter.) Read it to me ! 

Karenin. 

(reading.) " Lisa and Victor, I write to you 
both. I am not going to lie, and call you * dear ' 
and the like. I cannot master a feeling of bitter- 
ness; I cannot help reproaching — not you, of 
course, but myself — when I think of you, of your 
love, your happiness. And I am wretched, be- 
cause that is an accusation of myself. I know 
Victor. I know that, in spite of my being the hus- 
band, it is I who am the intruder. I stood in 
your way, I am the cause of all your troubles. 
And yet I cannot help feeling bitter and disliking 
both of you. At a distance I love you both, par- 
ticularly Lisa, darling Lisa — but when I think of 
you closely, I feel worse than indifferent. I know 
I am wrong, but I cannot change." 

Lisa. 

What is all that for? 

Karenin. 

(continuing.) "But all this is not to the point. 
What I am going to tell you is this : a change in 
my feelings has made me fulfil your wish in a dif- 



THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD m 

ferent way from what you desired. To lie, to 
act a disgusting comedy, to bribe the consistory of- 
ficials — 'the ugliness of all that is distasteful to 
me. I am a bad man myself, but not in that way. 
I cannot be a party to such low, dirty tricks. I 
simply am unable to. The other issue on which I 
have decided is the very simplest: you must marry 
— that is the only way for you to be happy. I am 
in your way — consequently, I must disappear." 

Lisa. 
(snatching Karenin's hand.) Victor! 

Karenin. 

(reading.) " I must disappear. And so I will. 
When this letter reaches you I shall be no more. 
P.S. — I am sorry you have sent me money for di- 
vorce expenses. This is unpleasant, and unlike 
you. But that cannot be mended now. I have 
done so many shabby things in my life; well, now 
it's your turn for once in a way. The money shall 
be sent back to you. The way I have found to 
settle things is much shorter and cheaper, and it is 
the surest one. I ask you only not to be angry 
with me, and not to think badly of me. And there 
is one thing more : I know a poor man, the watch- 
maker Eugene. Could you help him? He is a 



ii2 THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 

weak man, but very honest and good. Good-bye. 
Fedia." 

Lisa. 

He has killed himself ! 

Karenin. 

(rings the bell and runs to the hall.) Ask Mr. 
Vosnessensky to come back. 

Lisa. 

I knew that would be the end. Fedia ! Fedia 
darling ! 

Karenin. 

Lisa! 

Lisa. 

It is not true I ceased to love him ! I love him 
alone, and nobody else. And I have brought him 
to his end. Leave me alone ! 

(Vosnessensky returns.) 

Karenin. 

Where is Fedor Vasilievich? What did they 
tell you ? 

Vosnessensky. 

They told me he had gone out in the morning, 
leaving this letter, and had not come back. 



THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 113 

Karenin. 
I must find out. I leave you, Lisa. 

Lisa. 
Don't be angry with me. I can't lie either. 
Leave me now. Try, try to find out. 

ACTV 

Scene I 

A dirty room in a cheap restaurant. 

{People are sitting around the 
table, drinking tea and vodka. 
Near the front a small table, at 
which is sitting Fedia. He is in 
rags, and has fallen very low. By 
his side is Petushkov, a delicate, 
keen-faced man, with long hair, 
spiritual face. Both are slightly 
tipsy.) 

Petushkov. 
I quite understand. This is real love. Well, 
go on. 

Fedia. 
Of course we could expect a girl of our class to 
feel like that, to sacrifice everything for the man 



ii4 THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 

she loves. But this girl is a gipsy, educated to 
care only for money and to squeeze it out of every 
one. And yet she has this pure disinterested love. 
She gives everything without asking for anything 
in return. It's the contrast of it that strikes me 
most. 

Petushkov. 

Yes, that's what we painters call " les valeurs." 
To produce the exact impression of scarlet, you 
must have green round it. Well, that is not the 
point. I understand. 

Fedia. 

The only good I have done in life is that I have 
not taken advantage of her love. And do you 
know why? 

Petushkov. 

Was it because you pitied her? 

Fedia. 

No, no. I did not pity her. But I had a sort 
of admiration for her. And when she used to sing 
— oh, how wonderfully she sang, and probably 
sings now ! — . not only then, but always, I looked 
up to her. I have not ruined her life, simply be- 
cause I loved her truly. And now she is simply 
a dear, a very dear memory to me. (He drinks.) 



THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 115 
Petushkov. 
I understand. You are a true idealist. 

Fedia. 

Now listen. I have had other passions in my 
life. Once I was very much in love with a pretty 
woman — basely, vilely, like a dog. She gave me 
a rendezvous. I did not go. And why? Be- 
cause of her husband; I felt I could not behave 
meanly to him. The strange thing is that when I 
remember that I want to feel glad, and to be sat- 
isfied with myself for having behaved like an hon- 
est man ; instead, I repent as if I committed a sin. 
With Masha it is just the contrary. I rejoice at 
not having polluted my love. However low I may 
fall, for whatever mean trifles I sell my life, 
though I am covered with vermin and mange, 
this diamond will remain untarnished, this ray of 
sunlight will shine for ever in my soul. 

Petushkov. 
I understand. Where is she now? 

Fedia. 

I don't know. I don't want to know. All that 
belongs to the past. I don't want to mix it with 
my present life. 



n6 THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 

{At the table behind them a 
Woman screams. The Manager 
comes with a policeman, and they 
take her away. Fedia and Pet- 
USHKOV watch them, listen, and are 
silent.) 

Petushkov. 

{when all is silent again.) Yes, your life is a 
very wonderful one. 

Fedia. 
Oh no, it is quite simple. In our class — the 
one in which I was born — three courses only are 
open to a man; the first is to go into the govern- 
ment service, to make money and to increase the 
ugliness of the life round you. This was disgusting 
to me, or perhaps I was simply unfit for it; but 
disgust was the stronger motive. The second 
course is to destroy the ugly conditions of life. 
But only heroes can do that, and I am not a hero. 
The third issue is to drink in order to forget, to 
indulge in dissipation, and to sing. That was my 
choice — I sang, and you see what end my sing- 
ing has led me to. {He drinks.) 

Petushkov. 
And marriage? Home life? I should have 
been happy if I had a good wife. My wife was 
the cause of my ruin. 



THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 117 

Fedia. 

Home life ? Oh yes, my wife was an ideal one. 
She is still alive. But, don't you know, there was 
no sparkle in her. You know how, in order to 
make kvass fizz, they put a currant into the bottle. 
Well, that currant was lacking in our life. It did 
not sparkle. That is why I tried to find oblivion 
somehow. I began to behave disgracefully. And 
you know, I dare say, that we love those who sur- 
round us just for the good we are doing them, and 
our dislikes are caused by the evil we do them. I 
wronged her greatly. She seemed to love me. 

Petushkov. 
Why do you say " seemed? " 

Fedia. 

I say so because she somehow could not creep 
into my heart, as Masha did. But I don't want 
to speak about that. There were times when she 
was going to have a baby, or when she was nurs- 
ing, and I stayed away for days and came home 
quite drunk. Of course, that was why I loved her 
less and less. {Ecstatically.) Oh, I know, I 
realise it only at this very moment : the reason why 
I love Masha is that I did her good, and not evil. 



n8 THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 

That's it. And the other one I actually tor- 
mented, and did not love. I simply did not love 
her. I was jealous for a time, but that was soon 
over. 

(A Man approaches, Arte- 
MIEV by name, dressed in a shabby 
but carefully mended coat; his 
moustaches are dyed, and he wears 
an order on his coat.) 

Artemiev. 
Good appetite, gentlemen. (Bowing to Fe- 
DIA.) You have made the acquaintance of our 
artist? 

Fedia. 

(coolly.) Yes, I have. 

Artemiev. 

(to Petushkov.) Have you finished that por- 
trait you were commissioned to paint? 

Petushkov. 

No; I didn't get the commission after all. 

Artemiev. 

(Sitting down.) You don't mind my sitting here 
with you? 

(Fedia and Petushkov re- 
main silent.) 



THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 119 
Petushkov. 
Fedor Vasilievich was telling me about his life. 

Artemiev. 

Oh, secrets? I won't disturb you. Go on. I 
don't want you. Pigs! (He goes to the next 
table, sits down and orders beer. He listens to 
the talk of the other two.) 

Fedia. 
I don't like that man. 

Petushkov. 
He is offended. 

Fedia. 

I don't care. I cannot stand people like that. 
I know I couldn't open my mouth in his presence. 
It's different with you — I feel quite at my ease. 
Well, what was I saying? 

Petushkov. 

You were speaking about your jealousy. How 
did you part with your wife? 

Fedia. 

Oh, that! (A pause.) It is altogether a very 
strange story. My wife has married. 



120 THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 

Petushkov. 
How's that? Are you divorced? 

Fedia. 
No. {He smiles.) She is a widow. 

Petushkov. 
A widow? What do you mean? 

Fedia. 

I mean what I say. She is a widow. I do not 
exist. 

Petushkov. 
I don't understand. 

Fedia. 

Don't you? I am dead. Yes, that's it. 

(Artemiev leans towards them 
and listens intently.) 

Well, I think I may tell you. It happened a 
long time ago; and, besides, you don't know who 
I really am. That is how it happened: I was 
making my wife totally miserable, I had squan- 
dered everything I could lay hands on; in fact, I 
had become intolerable. Well, a man came for- 
ward to protect my wife. Don't imagine any- 
thing wicked and mean. He was a friend of 



THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 121 

mine, a very good man, very straightforward, the 
exact opposite of me. And as there is much more 
bad than good in me, he, being the contrary of 
me, is the ideal of a good man: honest, firm, ab- 
stemious, virtuous in all respects. He knew my 
wife from the time she was quite a child. He was 
in love with her when she married me, and he 
bore his fate patiently. But after I had become 
disreputable, and she was in great straits, he 
came oftener to our house. I liked him to my- 
self. She fell in love with her old friend, while I 
only behaved worse and worse, and then left my 
wife altogether. At that time I was madly in 
love with Masha. I proposed myself that they 
should marry. They did not want to. I went 
on misbehaving, and finally, of course — = 

Petushkov. 
The usual thing in this world! 

Fedia. 

No. I feel sure that their love remained pure. 
I know it did. He is very religious, and marriage 
without the sanction of the Church is a sin in his 
eyes. Well, they wanted me to get a divorce, and 
I agreed to it. I was to plead guilty. But, oh ! 
all the lies I would have had to tell. I could not 



122 THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 

face it. I wonder whether you can believe it, but 
really I preferred killing myself to telling lies. I 
was on the point of doing so when a kind friend 
showed me that it was quite unnecessary. We 
did, accordingly, something quite different. I sent 
a farewell letter — and the next day my clothes 
and my notebook were found on the bank. I 
don't swim — that was known. 

Petushkov. 

But how could they believe you dead if your 
body had not been found? 

Fedia. 

It was found. Just imagine! A week after, 
some body or other was dragged out of the water. 
My wife was sent for to identify it as mine. It 
was quite decomposed. She looked at it. " Is 
that he?" they asked. "Yes, it is." That set- 
tled it. I have been buried; they married, live 
here in this town, and are very happy indeed. 
And you see what has become of me. I live and 
drink. Yesterday I passed their house. The 
windows were lit; some one's shadow passed 
across the window. Sometimes I feel very 
wretched, but at others I am all right. The 
worst is when I have no cash. {He drinks.) 



THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 123 

Artemiev. 
{approaching them.) Excuse me, but you know 
I have been listening to that story of yours. A 
very entertaining one it is — and, the best of it 
is, a very profitable one. You say you dislike 
having no money. That is highly unpleasant, no 
doubt. And in your position you ought always 
to have lots of cash. You are dead, you say. 
Stone-dead, eh? Well — 

Eedia. 

Look here, I did not tell you anything, and I 
am in no need of any advice from you. 

Artemiev. 
But I want to give you a bit of advice. You 
are dead, aren't you? Well, if it were found out 
that you were alive, then those two, your wife and 
the man she's so happy with now, would be con- 
demned for bigamy. The least sentence they 
could get would be deportation. Then why should 
you be short of money? 

Fedia. 
Will you please leave me alone? 

Artemiev. 
Just write them a letter. And if you don't 



I2 4 THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 

want to, let me write. Give me only their ad- 
dress, and you'll be grateful to me. 

Fedia. 

Get away from here, I say. I did not tell you 
anything. 

Artemiev. 

You did. I have a witness. The waiter here 
heard you saying you were dead. 

Waiter. 
I don't know anything about it. 

Fedia. 

You wretch ! 

Artemiev. 

I am a wretch? Waiter, call a policeman. 
I'll let the authorities know about this. 

(Fedia rises to go. Artemiev 
holds him hack. A Policeman en- 
ters.) 

« 

Scene II 

In the country. A terrace hung with ivy. 

(Anna Dmitrievna Kare- 



THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 125 

NINA is talking with Lisa (en- 
ceinte.) The Nurse and Lisa's 
Boy. 

Lisa. 

He is already on his way from the station by 
now. 

Boy. 

Who's coming? 

Lisa. 
Father. 

Boy. 
Oh, father's coming! 

Lisa. 
C'est etonnant comme il Vaime. Tout a fait 
comme son pere. 

Anna Dmitrievna. 
Tant mieux. Se souvient-il de son pere verit- 
able? 

Lisa. 
(sighing.) I haven't told him. I think it would 
only confuse him. But sometimes I feel I ought 
to. What do you think, mama? 

Anna Dmitrievna. 

It all depends on what you feel about it, Lisa. 
If you follow the suggestion of your own heart, 



126 THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 

you will know when and what you ought to say. 
How wonderfully death reconciles us with those 
who are gone ! I must confess there was a time 
when I simply hated Fedia — whom I knew as a 
boy. And now I just think of him only as a 
pleasant young man, Victor's friend. What an 
impulsive man he was ! Of course, what he did 
was against the law, against religion. But all the 
same he sacrificed his life for those he loved. 
You may say what you like the action was a fine 
one. {A pause.) I hope Victor will not forget 
to bring me the wool. I shall soon have none 
left. {She knits.) 

Lisa. 
There he comes. 

{The sound of approaching 

wheels and the tinkling of small 

bells attached to the harness is 

heard. She rises and goes to the 

end of the terrace.) 

He is not alone. I see a lady's hat at his side. 

Oh, that is mother ! I have not seen her for ages. 

{She goes to the door and meets Karenin and 

Anna Pavlovna.) 

Anna Pavlovna. 
{kissing Lisa and Anna Dmitrievna.) Victor 
met me and brought me with him. 



THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 127 

Anna Dmitrievna. 
That is nice. 

Anna Pavlovna. 

I thought I had better come, so as not to put off 
my visit again. Here I am, and I will stay till 
the evening train, if you don't mind. 

Karenin. 

(Kissing his wife, the mother, and the boy.) 
Congratulate me, all of you. I am so happy. I 
shan't have to go to town again for two days. 
They can manage without me to-morrow. 

Lisa. 

Oh, how nice! Two days. It's so long since 
we've seen anything of you. Suppose we drive 
over to the hermitage. What do you say? 

Anna Pavlovna. 

How like his father the boy is. And what a 
fine little fellow ! I only wish he mayn't have in- 
herited everything from his father: he has his 
kind heart. 

Anna Dmitrievna. 
But not his weak will. 



128 THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 
Lisa. 

He is like him in everything. Victor quite 
agrees with me that if Fedia had come under a 
good influence when he was young — 

Anna Pavlovna. 

I don't understand all that. But I cannot 
think of Fedia without tears. 

Lisa. 

We all feel just the same. We hold him far 
dearer in our memory than we did when he was 
alive. 

Anna Pavlovna. 
Yes, indeed. 

Lisa. 

How hopeless it all seemed at one time, and 
then on a sudden all the difficulties were solved. 

Anna Dmitrievna. 

(to her son.) Well, Victor, have you brought 
me some wool? 

Karenin. 

Yes, I have. ( Taking some parcels out of his 
bag.) There is your wool and the eau-de-Co- 
logne, and here are the letters. A letter for you, 



THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 129 

Lisa, with a magistrate's seal. (He hands the 
letter to Lisa.) Well, Anna Pavlovna, if you 
care to tidy up, let me show you your room. I 
must go and wash after our drive; dinner will 
soon be ready. Lisa, shall I show Anna Pav- 
lovna into the corner room downstairs ? 

(Lisa, quite pale, holds the let- 
ter with trembling hands and 
reads it.) 

Karenin. 

What is it, Lisa? What is in that letter? 

Lisa. 

He is alive! O God, when shall I he free 
from him? O Victor, what does it all mean? 
(She breaks into sobs.) 

Karenin. 

(taking the letter and reading.) Horrible! 

Anna Dmitrievna. 

What has happened? Tell me — tell me what 
it is! 

Karenin. 

It is awful. He is alive. She is accused of 
bigamy, and I am a criminal too. This letter is 
from the investigating magistrate, who summons 
Lisa to him. 



130 THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 
Anna Dmitrievna. 
Horrible wretch! Why did he do it? 

Karenin. 

It was all a lie — a lie ! 

Lisa. 

Oh, how I hate him ! — I don't know what I 
am saying. 

(She goes into the house in 
tears. Karenin follows her.) 

Anna Pavlovna. 

Is it really possible he is alive? How can 
it be? 

Anna Dmitrievna. 

I have always felt — that from the moment 
Victor came into touch with them, they were 
bound to drag him down into the mire. And 
they have. They are all lies — lies and deceit ! 

ACT VI 

Scene I 

(The Investigating Magistrate's office.) 
(The Magistrate sits at the 



THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 131 

table, talking with Melnikov, 
His Clerk is looking through a 
pile of paper.) 

Magistrate. 
I never told her that. She invented it all, and 
now she reproaches me. 

Melnikov. 

She does not reproach you, but she is hurt. 

Magistrate. 

Well, I will come to dinner. Just now I have 
an interesting case. (To the Clerk.) Call 
them in, please. 

Clerk. 
Both? 

Magistrate. 

(finishing a cigarette.) No, first Madame Kare- 
nina, or, rather, Madame Protassova, to call her 
by her first name. 

Melnikov. 
Oh, it is Madame Karenina. 

Magistrate. 

Yes, an ugly business. I am only beginning 
the inquiry, but I can see it is a bad business. 
Well, good-bye. 



132 THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 

(Melnikov goes out. 

The Clerk goes out and fetches 
Lisa. She is in a black dress and 
black veil.) 

Magistrate. 

Be seated, please. {He points to the chair at 
the side of his table. Lisa sits down.) I am 
very sorry, believe me, to have to question you. 
But it is my duty. Be perfectly quiet, please. 
You have the right not to answer questions if you 
do not want to. But I should advise you not to 
conceal the truth — this is by far the best for you 
and for all the others. From the practical point 
of view the truth will be far the best policy. 

Lisa. 
I have nothing to conceal. 

Magistrate. 

{looking in the paper before him.) Your rank? 
Religion? I have that down already. I suppose 
it is correct? {He shows her the paper.) 

Lisa. 
{reading.) Yes. 

Magistrate. 
You are charged with having contracted a sec- 



THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 133 

ond marriage, well knowing that your first hus- 
band was alive. 

Lisa. 
I did not know it. 

Magistrate. 

And also with having bribed your first husband 
to pretend that he had committed suicide, in order 
that you might regain your freedom. 

Lisa. 
That is all false. 

Magistrate. 

Allow me to put to you a few questions. In 
July last, did you send him twelve hundred roubles ? 

Lisa. 

The money belonged to him. It was the sum 
produced by the sale of different things he left. 
When I parted with him, and was waiting for the 
divorce, I sent him this money. 

Magistrate. 

Very well. This money was sent the 17th of 
July, that is, two days before he disappeared. 



i 3 4 THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 

Lisa. 

I think that was the date. But I don't quite 
remember. 

Magistrate. 

Now, why was your lawyer instructed to with- 
draw your petition for a divorce at precisely that 
time? 

Lisa. 

I don't know. 

Magistrate. 

Very well. Now, when the police asked you to 
examine the corpse, how did it happen that you 
identified it as being that of your husband? 

Lisa. 

I was so much upset that I did not look at the 
corpse. I was so certain it was he that when they 
asked me whether it was I said I thought it was. 

Magistrate. 

You did not examine the corpse, because you 
were in a state of great agitation. That is easily 
understood. Very well. But may I ask why you 
sent by post every month a certain sum of money 
to Saratov, the town where your first husband re- 
sided? 



THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 135 

Lisa. 

It was my husband who sent that money. I 
cannot tell you to whom. It was a secret of his 
and not of mine. I can only assure you that it 
was not sent to Fedor Vasilievich. We were 
firmly convinced that he was dead. That is an 
absolute fact. 

Magistrate. 

Very well. Permit me only to say, madam, 
that although we are servants of the law that does 
not prevent us from being humane. Believe me, 
I quite understand the sadness of your position, 
and have the greatest sympathy for your troubles. 
You were tied to a man who squandered your 
property, who was unfaithful; who, in short, made 
you miserable. 

Lisa. 

I loved him. 

Magistrate. 

Of course. Still it was quite natural for you 
to desire your liberty, and you chose this simple 
way without thinking that it might lead you to 
what is considered a crime — to bigamy. I quite 
understand that, and the jury will also understand. 
That is why I would advise you to tell the entire 
truth. 



136 THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 

Lisa. 
I have told it. I have never lied in my life. 
(She bursts into tears.) May I go now? 

Magistrate. 

I must ask you to remain here for a while. I 
will not trouble you with any more questions. 
None at all. I must ask you simply to read 
your deposition and to sign it. You will see 
whether I have taken down your answers correctly. 
Will you kindly sit here? (Pointing to the ta- 
ble near the window; then to the clerk.) Show 
in Mr. Karenin. 

(The clerk shows in Karenin, 
looking earnest and rather solemn.) 

Magistrate. 
Be seated, please. 

Karenin. 

Thank you. (He remains standing.) What 
do you want from me? 

Magistrate. 
My duty is to make an inquiry. 

Karenin. 
In what capacity? 



THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 137 

Magistrate. 
(smiling.) In my capacity as investigating mag- 
istrate. You are here charged with a crime. 

Karenin. 
Indeed? With what crime? 

Magistrate. 
Bigamy. But kindly let me put you some ques- 
tions. Pray be seated. 

Karenin. 
No, thank you. 

Magistrate. 
Your name? 

Karenin. 
Victor Karenin. 

Magistrate. 
Your rank? 

Karenin. 
Chamberlain of the Imperial Court. 

Magistrate. 
Your age? 

Karenin. 
Thirty-eight. 



138 THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 

Magistrate. 
Your religion? 

Karenin. 

Orthodox Greek. I have never before been 
tried on any charge. Well, what next? 

Magistrate. 

Were you aware that Fedor Vasilievich Pro- 
tassov was alive when you contracted a marriage 
with his wife? 

Karenin. 

No; I did not know that. We were certain 
that he was drowned. 

Magistrate. 

To whom did you send money every month 
after the false report of Protassov's death? 

Karenin. 

I refuse to answer that question. 

Magistrate. 

Very well. What was the object of your hav- 
ing sent twelve hundred roubles to Protassov a few 
days before his simulated suicide on July 17th? 

Karenin. 
The money was given me to post by my wife. 



THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 139 

Magistrate. 
By Madame Protassov? 

Karenin. 

By my wife to send to her husband. She con- 
sidered that this sum of money was his property, 
and having parted with him she thought it unfair 
to keep his money. 

Magistrate. 

One question more: why did you stop taking 
steps to obtain a divorce? 

Karenin. 

Because Fedor Vasilievich had undertaken to 
do all that was necessary, and wrote me a letter 
to that effect. 

Magistrate. 
You have that letter? 

Karenin. 
No; I have lost it. 

Magistrate. 

"It is very awkward that everything should be 
lost that could have afforded proof that you are 
speaking the truth. 



i 4 o THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 
Karenin. 
What else do you want from me? 

Magistrate. 

All I want is to do my duty; and wliat you 
want is to prove your innocence. So I should ad- 
vise you, as I have advised Madame Protassova, 
not to conceal things which are sure to be found 
out, and to say frankly what actually happened. 
It is more advisable, because Protassov himself 
is in such a condition that he relates the actual 
facts about everything, and will probably do so in 
court. I should strongly advise you — 

Karenin. 

I shall be obliged if you will do your duty 
strictly without volunteering any kind of advice. 
May we go? {He goes to Lisa, who takes his 
arm.) 

Magistrate. 
I am sorry, but I must keep you here just now. 
(Karenin turns to him with as- 
tonishment.) 
Oh no, I don't mean to arrest you, although 
it would greatly facilitate my inquiry. But I 
shall not proceed to that step. I only want to 



THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 141 

question Protassov in your presence, and confront 
him with you, to give you an opportunity of prov- 
ing the untruth of his statements. Be seated, 
please. {To the clerk.) Call in Mr. Protassov. 
{The clerk fetches in Fedia, in 
rags, a total wreck.) 

Fedia. 

{to Lisa and Karenin.) Elizaveta Andreevna, 
Victor, it is not my fault it has come to this. I 
wanted only to do the best for you. If I am 
guilty, forgive me. {He bows to the ground be- 
fore them.) 

Magistrate. 

Will you, please, answer my questions? 

Fedia. 

Ask whatever you like. 

Magistrate. 
Your name? 

Fedia. 
But you know it. 

Magistrate. 
Answer, please. 

Fedia. 
Fedor Protassov. 



142 THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 
Magistrate. 
Rank, religion, age? 

Fedia. 

r {after a short silence.) You ought to be 
ashamed to ask such silly questions. Ask some- 
thing to the point, and leave all that nonsense. 

Magistrate. 

Be careful, please, in your expressions. An- 
swer my questions. 

Fedia. 

Well, as you are not ashamed. My rank: 
graduate of the University of Moscow. My 
age: forty. My religion: orthodox Greek. 
What next? 

Magistrate. 

Did Mr. Karenin and his wife know you were 
alive when you left your clothes on the bank and 
disappeared? 

Fedia. 

They did not. There can be no doubt about 
that. I actually intended to kill myself, but 
then — But I need not tell you all that The 
point is that they did not know. 



THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 143 
Magistrate. 

Your statements to the police officer contained 
a different story. What is the meaning of that? 

Fedia. 

What police officer? Oh yes, a police officer 
came to the Rjanov night-shelter to see me. I 
was drunk, and I told all sorts of lies. I don't 
remember now what I said. That was all non- 
sense. Now I am not drunk, and I am telling 
you the truth. They did not know. They be- 
lieved me dead. How glad I was they did! 
And it would have been all right for ever but for 
that wretch Artemiev. But if somebody must be 
found guilty, it is only I. 

Magistrate. 

I understand your desire to be generous, but 
the law wants the truth. Why had you money 
sent to you? 

(Fedia makes no answer.) 

Magistrate. 
You received that money through a man named 
Semenov, in Saratov. 

(Fedia makes no answer.) 

Magistrate. 
Why do you not answer? My report will men- 



i 4 4 THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 

tion that the defendant did not answer these ques- 
tions. This would certainly be in favour of the 
prosecution, and hurt both you and the other two. 
Don't you see that? 

Fedia. 

(silent for a moment , then passionately.) Oh, 
are you not ashamed, sir? Why do you thrust 
yourself into other people's lives! You are en- 
grossed by the power you possess, and you must 
show it off ! You cause endless pain — moral 
pain, much worse than physical torture — to those 
who are a thousand times better and worthier 
than you. 

Magistrate. 
I beg — 

Fedia. 
Don't beg. I will tell you what I think, and 
you (to the clerk) just write it down. At least, 
for the first time, one of these reports will contain 
sense, and something manly. (Raising his voice.) 
There are three of us : she, he, and I. The relations 
between us have been very complicated: a moral 
struggle, the like of which you never dreamed of. 
This struggle has brought about a situation which 
solved the difficulties. All our troubles were over. 
They were happy, they loved my memory. I, in 
my disgrace, was happy too, because I had done 



THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 145 

the right thing; because I had disappeared from: 
life — and quite right too — so as not to be in 
the way of those who were full of life and lived 
an honest life. We all lived as we ought to. 
Then suddenly a blackmailing blackguard comes 
along, and wants me to be a party to his plan of 
blackmail. I turn him out. He goes to you, the 
champion of justice, the guardian of morality. 
And you, just because you get some wretched 
monthly screw for your filthy work, you put on 
your uniform and swagger at your ease; showing 
off your power over those who tower above you, 
and who would not let you pass the threshold of 
their houses. You have climbed to a sort of pin- 
nacle, and you are happy — * 

Magistrate. 
I shall have you turned out. 

Fedia. 

Oh, I am not afraid of anything. I am a dead 
man — you can do nothing to me. I can't be 
worse off than I am, whatever you do to me. You 
may order me out. I don't mind. 

Karenin. 
May we go? 



i 4 6 THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 

Magistrate. 
Sign your deposition first. 

Fedia. 
Ha, ha, ha, ha! You pitiful beast! 

Magistrate. 
Take him away. I shall make out an order 
for your arrest. 

Fedia. 
(to Karenin and Lisa.) Forgive me. 

Karenin. 

(stretching out his hand to him.) It was fated 
to happen so. 

(Lisa passes; Fedia hows low to her.) 

Scene II 

A passage in law the court. In the background 
is a glass door, with a Guard standing before it. 
To the right is another door, through which the 
Prisoners are being conducted to the court. 

Ivan Petrovich, in rags, goes 
to the door on the right, and tries 
to pass through it. 



THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 147 
Guard. 
Stop! No admission here. How dare you! 

Ivan Petrovich. 

Why no admission? The law says that the 
sittings of the court are public. 

{Applause is heard from within.) 

Guard. 

No admission, I say. I am ordered not to let 
anybody pass. 

Ivan Petrovich. 

You rude fellow ! You don't know whom you 
are addressing. 

(A Young Lawyer enters.) 
Young Lawyer. 
<Are you here on business? 

Ivan Petrovich. 
No, I am one of the public. And this rude 
fellow, this Cerberus, won't let me go in. 

Young Lawyer. 
This is not the entrance for the public. Wait 
a minute; the court will adjourn presently for 
lunch. 

(He is about to go, but stops, 
seeing Prince Abreskov coming 
in.) 



148 THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 
Ivan Petrovich. 
I ought to be admitted, anyhow. 

Prince Abreskov. 

May I inquire how far the proceedings have 
gone? 

Young Lawyer. 

The speeches for the defence have just begun. 
Petrushin is speaking now. 

{Applause is heard from the court.) 

Prince Abreskov. 
What attitude do the defendants adopt? 

Young Lawyer. 

Very dignified indeed, especially that of Kare- 
nin and Elizaveta Andreevna. It is as if they 
were the judges and not the defendants. This is 
the general impression. And Petrushin is taking 
advantage of that. 

Prince Abreskov. 
And Protassov? 

Young Lawyer. 
He is extremely excited, trembles all the time. 



THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 149 

Quite natural, considering his life. But he is too 
irritable. He interrupted the counsel for the 
prosecution more than once, and his own counsel. 
He is in a frightful state of excitement. 

Prince Abreskov. 
What sentence do you anticipate? 

Young Lawyer. 

It is hard to say; it is a very mixed jury. 
Obviously the jury won't bring it in that there 
has been any premeditation. But, all the 
same . . . 

{The door opens, a gentleman 
comes out of the court. Prince 
Abreskov moves to the door.) 

Young Lawyer. 
Would you like to go in? 

Prince Abreskov. 
I should, very much. 

Young Lawyer. 
You are Prince Abreskov? 

Prince Abreskov. 
Yes. 



150 THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 
Young Lawyer. 

(to the Guard.) Let this gentleman pass. 

There is a free seat on the left; take it. 

(Prince Abreskov is allowed 
to enter; a door is opened for 
him, the Counsel for the defence 
is seen through it speaking.) 

Ivan Petrovich. 

Silly aristocrats! I am an intellectual aristo- 
crat. That's something much more. 

Young Lawyer. 
Excuse me. (He goes of hurriedly.) 

Petushkov (entering.) 

There you are, Ivan Petrovich! How are 
you ? How far have the proceedings gone ? 

Ivan Petrovich. 

The speeches for the defence have begun. 
Don't try to pass. They will not let you. 

Guard. 

Silence. You are not in a public-house here. 
(Further applause is heard. 
The door opens, and there is a 



THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 151 

rush of Lawyers, Gentlemen, 
and Ladies into the passage.) 

First Lady. 
Wonderful ! He moved me to tears. 

Officer. 

It is more thrilling than any novel. But I can- 
not understand how she could have loved him. 
Such a horrible face ! 

{The other door opens and the 
Defendants appear; Lisa and 
Karenin go through the passage. 
Fedia follows them.) 

First Lady. 

Don't talk. Here he comes. Look how agi- 
tated he is. 

{The Lady and Officer pass of.) 

Fedia. 

{Coming near to Ivan Petrovich.) You have 
brought it? 

Ivan Petrovich. 
Here it is. {He hands him a case.) 

Fedia. 
{hides it in his pocket and moves to go; then sees 



152 THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 

Petushkov.) How stupid it all is. How 
wearisome! How meaningless! {He turns to 
go.) 

Petrushin. 

{his counsel; a stout man, with red cheeks, very 
animated.) Well, my friend, our case is looking 
up. But don't spoil things in your last speech. 

Fedia. 
I shall not speak at all. I don't want to. 

Petrushin. 

No? — you must. But don't be uneasy. Now 
we are pretty sure to win. You just tell them 
what you told me — that if you are being tried it 
is for not having committed suicide, which would 
have meant committing a crime indeed, against 
both civil and ecclesiastic laws. 

Fedia. 
I shall not tell them anything. 

Petrushin. 
Why not? 

Fedia. 
I don't want to. Tell me only — at the worst, 
what can happen? 



THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 153 

Petrushin. 

I told you. At the worst, it might be deporta- 
tion to Siberia. 

Fedia. 

Who would be deported? 

Petrushin. 

You and your wife. 

Fedia. 
And at the best? 

Petrushin. 

Penance in a monastery, and, of course, the an- 
nulment of the second marriage. 

Fedia. 

In fact, I shall be tied to her again. I mean 
she tied to me? 

Petrushin. 

Well, that cannot be helped. But don't be so 
agitated. And please say what I told you to say. 
I beseech you not to say what is unnecessary. 
You want — (noticing that they are surrounded 
by listeners.) I am tired. I will go and rest. 
You ought to rest also in the meanwhile. And 
mind, don't let yourself be alarmed. 



154 THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 
Fedia. 
No other sentence could possibly be expected? 

Petrushin. 

(going.) No other. 

(Officers of the Court enter, 
pass, and stand in the passage.) 

Fedia. 

Now then. (He takes the revolver out of his 

pocket and shoots himself through the heart. He 

falls. All the people in the passage rush to him.) 

I think I have not missed this time. Call Lisa. 

(People are crowding in from 

all the doors: Judges, witnesses, 

public. Lisa rushes to Fedia. 

Masha, Karenin, Ivan Petro- 

vich, Prince Abreskov follow 

her.) 

Lisa. 

What have you done, Fedia! Why? 

Fedia. 

Forgive me, I could not make you free before. 
. . . Now, it is not for you, it is for my own 



THE MAN WHO WAS DEAD 155 

sake. ... I am much better so. I was 
ready even . . . 

Lisa. 

You will live. 

{A doctor bends down over him, 
lays his ear to his heart.) 

Fedia. 

Oh, I know it is over. Good-bye, Victor. 
And, Masha, you are late this time. Oh, how 
happy I am now! {Dies.) 



THE CAUSE OF IT ALL 



CHARACTERS 

Old Akulina. Seventy years old; still brisk, 
dignified, old fashioned. 

Michael. Her son; thirty-five, passionate, 
proud, vain, strong. 

Martha. His wife, thirty-two. A grumbler; 
talks a great deal and rapidly. 

Paraska. Ten years old. Daughter of Mi- 
chael and Martha. 

Watchman Taras. Fifty. Self-important, 
gives himself airs, speaks slowly. 

Tramp. Forty; wiry, thin, speaks stiltedly. 
When drunk is very free. 

Ignat. A chatterbox, gay, stupid. 

Neighbour. Forty. Fussy. 

Autumn. A hut with a closet. 



THE CAUSE OF IT ALL 

ACT I 

Old Akulina is spinning; the 
housewife Martha is making 
dough; little Paraska is rocking 
the cradle. 

Martha. 

Oh, my heart has a boding of ill. What can 
he be about? It will be as bad as last time when 
he went to sell the wood. He spent nearly half 
on drink. And it's always my fault. 

Akulina. 

Why reckon on evil? It is still early. It is 
a long way off. It takes time. 

Martha. 

Akimich has returned. It's not early. He 
left after my man, but my man is not back. 
Worry, worry, that's all the pleasure one gets. 

Akulina. 

Akimich had sold his wood; he only had to 
deliver it. Our man was taking his to the mar- 
ket. 

159 



i6o THE CAUSE OF IT ALL 

Martha. 

I should not be afraid if he was alone, but he 
went with Ignat. And every time he goes out 
with that thick-headed mule — heaven help me ! 
it never ends well, he always gets drunk. Day 
after day I struggle on. Everything depends on 
me. If anything good ever came along! But 
nothing pleasant ever happens, and it's work, 
work from morning till night. 

The door opens, and the local 

watchman Taras enters with a 

ragged tramp. 

Taras. 
How do you do ? I have brought you a lodger. 

Tramp. 
(Bowing.) Greetings to the hosts. 
Martha. 

Why do you bring them to us so often? We 
had a man here Wednesday night. You always 
bring them to us. You ought to take them to 
Stepanida: she has no children. I don't know 
where to turn with mine, and you always bring 
tramps to us. 

Taras. 

I take them to every one in turn. 



THE CAUSE OF IT ALL 161 

Martha. 

In turn, indeed! I haye children. And my 
man is out. 

Taras. 

If he sleeps here he won't wear out the place he 
lies on. 

Akulina. 

(To the Tramp.) Come in, sit down. Make 
yourself at home. 

Tramp. 

Thanks. I should like something to eat, if 
possible. 

Martha. 

Hasn't had time to look round, and asks for 
food at once. Didn't you come through the vil- 
lage? 

Tramp. 
(Sighs.) I'm not accustomed to this sort of 
thing in my position. But as I have nothing of 
my own — 

Akulina rises, gets the bread, 
cuts a slice and gives it to the 
tramp. 

Tramp. 
(Taking the bread.) Merci. (He sits down 
on the bench and eats greedily.) 



1 62 THE CAUSE OF IT ALL 

Taras. 

Where is Michael? 

Martha. 

Gone to town with the hay. It's time he was 
back, but he's not. I can't help thinking some- 
thing has happened. 

Taras. 

What could happen? 

Martha. 

What, indeed? Nothing good, of course; but 
you can count on something bad. 

Akulina. 

(Sitting down to her spinning wheel. To 
Taras, pointing at Martha.) She never can 
hold her tongue. I know, we women are not 
wise. But once he's out of the house, he doesn't 
care a rap. I expect him to come home drunk. 

Martha. 

If he was alone I wouldn't be afraid, but he 
went with Ignat. 

Taras. 

(Smiling.) Oh, well, Ignat Ivanovich is a 
rare one for drink. 



THE CAUSE OF IT ALL 163 

Akulina. 
What has Ignat got to do with him? 

Martha. 

It's all very well for you to talk, mother. But 
I'm just sick to death of his drunkenness. When 
he's sober, it would be a sin to complain, but when 
he's drunk you know what he's like. Don't say 
a word. Everything's wrong. 

Taras. 

But what about you women? A man gets 
drunk. Well, what of that? He shows off a bit. 
Sleep it off, and all will be smooth again. But 
you women must pester. 

Martha. 

It doesn't matter what you do. If he's drunk, 
everything's wrong. 

Taras. 

You must understand that a man can't help 
drinking sometimes. Your woman's work keeps 
you at home; but we can't help it, if we've got 
business or are in company. What if one does 
drink? There's no harm in it. 



1 64 THE CAUSE OF IT ALL 

Martha. 

It's all very well for you to talk, but it's hard 
on us women; oh! so hard. If you men were in 
our place for a week you'd alter your tune, I 
know. Make and bake, and boil and spin, and 
weave, and the cattle, and all the work, and these 
little naked things to be washed and dressed and 
fed. It all falls on us, and directly the least thing 
isn't exactly as he likes — there it is, especially 
when he's drunk. Oh, what a life is woman's! 

Tramp. 

{Munching.) Quite true. Drink is the cause 
of it all, and all the catastrophes of life come 
from it. 

Taras. 
It's evident that it's knocked you over. 

Tramp. 

No, not exactly, though I have suffered from 
it too. Were it not for that, the course of my 
life might have been different. 

Taras. 

Well, to my mind, if you drink wisely no harm 
comes of it. 



THE CAUSE OF IT ALL 165 

Tramp. 

And I say it has such power that it may ruin 
a man. 

Martha. 

That's what I say. You work, you do your 
best, and all your reward is to be scolded or 
beaten like a dog. 

Tramp. 

Not only that, but there are people who are 
slaves to it — who lose their heads through it, and 
perform actions that are quite undesirable. So 
long as he does not drink, give him anything you 
like, he will take nothing that does not belong to 
him. Once he's drunk, he grabs anything that 
comes to hand. He gets blows, he is put in 
prison. When he's not drunk he is honest, 
worthy; but directly he drinks, he becomes slavish 
i — he takes anything he can. 

Akulina. 

I think it depends on oneself. 

Tramp. 

It depends on oneself when one is healthy, but 
drink is a disease. 

Taras. 
A disease, indeed! You give him what he de- 



i66 THE CAUSE OF IT ALL 

serves, and that disease will very soon disappear. 
Good-bye, so long. {He leaves.) 

Martha, wiping her. hands, is 
about to go out. 

Akulina. 

{Looking at the tramp and seeing that he has 
eaten the bread.) Martha, Martha, cut him 
some more. 

Martha. 

What next! I'm going to see to the samovar. 
Akulina rises , goes to the ta- 
ble, takes the bread and cuts a slice 
and gives it to the tramp. 

Tramp. 
Merci. I have developed a great appetite. 

Akulina. 
Are you a factory hand? 

Tramp. 
Who? I? I was an engine-driver. 

Akulina. 
Did you earn much? 

Tramp. 
From 50 to 70 roubles a month. 



THE CAUSE OF IT ALL 167 

Akulina. 

Dear me ! How on earth did you come down 
in the world so ? 

Tramp. 
Pm not the only one who's come down in the 
world. I came down because we live in such 
times that an honest man can't make his way. 

Martha. 

(Entering with samovar.) O Lord, he's not 
back yet. He'll certainly be drunk. My heart 
tells me so. 

Akulina. 

I'm beginning to think he's gone on the spree. 

Martha. 

There, you see! I have to struggle on alone, 
make and bake, boil and spin, and weave, and the 
cattle, it all falls on me, and these little naked 
things. (She points to the children. The baby 
in the cradle screams.) Parasha, rock the cradle. 
Oh, what a life is woman's! And if he's drunk 
it is all wrong. Say a word he doesn't like — 

Akulina. 

(Making the tea.) Here's the last of the tea. 
Did you tell him to bring some? 



1 68 THE CAUSE OF IT ALL 

Martha. 

Of course. He meant to. But will he? 
Will he give a thought to his home? (She puts 
the samovar on the table.) 

The Tramp leaves the table. 

Akulina. 

Why do you get up? We are going to have 
tea. 

Tramp. 

I give you thanks for your kind hospitality. 
(He throws down his cigarette and approaches 
the table.) 

Martha. 

What are you? Are you a peasant or what? 

Tramp. 

I'm neither a peasant nor a noble, missus; I 
belong to a double-edged class. 

Martha. 
What do you mean! (Gives him a cup.) 

Tramp. 

Mercu I mean that my father was a Polish 
count; and besides him there were many more, 
and I had two mothers also. 



THE CAUSE OF IT ALL 169 

Akulina. 
O Lord! How could you? 

Tramp. 

It was this way, because my mother lived in 
prostitution — in polygamy, therefore — and 
there were all sorts of fathers, and there were 
two mothers, because the mother who bore me de- 
serted me in my tender years. A yard-porter's 
wife took pity on me and brought me up. In 
general, my biography is complicated. 

Martha. 
Have some more tea. Were you apprenticed? 

Tramp. 

My apprenticeship was unsatisfactory. I was 
given to a smith, not by my real mother but my 
adopted mother. That blacksmith was my first 
teacher. And his teaching consisted in beating 
me so, that he hit his anvil seldomer than my un- 
happy head. But no matter how much he beat 
me, he could not deprive me of talent. Then I 
went to a locksmith; there I was appreciated, and 
made my way. I became the chief craftsman; I 
made the acquaintance of educated men. I be- 
longed to a party; I was able to acquire literary 



170 THE CAUSE OF IT ALL 

speech. My life might have been raised, for I 
had enormous talent. 

AKULINA. 
Of course. 

Tramp. 

And then there was a disturbance — the tyran- 
nous burden of the people's life — and I got into 
prison, and was deprived of liberty of my life. 

Martha. 



What for? 
For rights. 

What rights? 



Tramp. 
Martha. 



Tramp. 

What rights! The rights that the well-to-do 
should not be everlastingly idle, and that the 
working proletariat should be rewarded for his 
toil. 

Akulina. 
You're talking about the land. 
Tramp. 

Of course. It is the same in the agrarian 
question. 



THE CAUSE OF IT ALL 171 

Akulina. 

May the Lord and the Queen of Heaven grant 
it. We are sorely pushed for land. 

Tramp. 

So my barque was carried along on the waves of 
life's ocean. 

Akulina. 

What are you going to do now? 

Tramp. 

Now? Now I'm going to Moscow. I shall 
go to some contractor. There's no help for it. 
I shall humble myself. I shall say, Give me any 
work you like, only take me on. 

Akulina. 
Have some more tea. 

Tramp. 
Thank you ; I mean merci. 

Akulina. 
There's Michael. Just in time for tea. 

Martha. 

{Rises.) Oh, woe betide us. He's with Ig- 
nat. So he's drunk. 



1 7 2 THE CAUSE OF IT ALL 

Michael and Ignat stumble 
into the room; both are drunk. 

Ignat. 

How do you do? {He prays before the ikon.) 
Here we are, you dirty skunk,* just in time for 
the samovar. We go to church — mass is just 
over; we go to dinner, just eaten up, but we go to 
the pub and we're in the nick of time. Ha-ha-ha. 
You offer us tea, we offer you vodka. That's all 
right, isn't it? {He laughs.) 

Michael. 

Where did this swell come from? {He takes 
a bottle from his coat pocket and puts it on the 
table.) Where are the cups? 

Akulina. 
Did you have a good trip? 

Ignat. 

It couldn't have been better, you dirty skunk. 
We drank, we had a good time, and here we are. 

Michael. 

{Fills the cup, and hands one to his mother and 
then one to the tramp.) Have a drink, too. 

* Literally, " dirty stick " — a very offensive expression in Rus- 
sia. — Editor. 



THE CAUSE OF IT ALL 173 

Tramp. 

{Takes cup.) I give you heartfelt thanks. 
To your health. {Empties cup.) 

Ignat. 

You're a brick, you dirty skunk, to gulp it down 
like that. I expect it's gone all down your mus- 
cles after your fast. {He pours out more vodka.)\ 

Tramp. 

{Drinking.) I wish success to all you under- 
take. 

Akulina. 

Did you get a good price? 

Ignat. 

Whatever the price was, it's all gone on drink, 
you dirty skunk. Hasn't it, Michael? 

Michael. 

Of course. What's the good of looking at 
money? It's not often you get the chance of a 
spree. 

Martha. 

What are you showing off for? It's not nice. 
There's no food in the house, and you go on like 
this. 



i74 THE CAUSE OF IT ALL 

Michael. 
( Threateningly.) Martha ! 

Martha. 

What's the good of saying Martha? I know 
I'm Martha. The very sight of you makes me 
sick, you shameless drunkard 1 

Michael. 
Martha, you take care. 

Martha. 
Take care, indeed. I shan't take care. 

Michael. 
Pour out the vodka, and offer it to the guests. 

Martha. 

Oh, you blear-eyed dog ! I don't want to speak 
to you. 

Michael. 

You don't ! You dog's hide ! What did you 
say? 

Martha. 

(Rocking the cradle.) What did I say? I 
said I didn't want to speak to you, so there ! 



THE CAUSE OF IT ALL 175 

Michael. 

Ah, you've forgotten? (Springs from the ta- 
ble and gives her a blow on the head that displaces 
her shawl.) 

Martha. 

(Running to the door.) Oh-h-h-h! 

Michael. 

You shan't go away, you beast! (Rushes to- 
wards her.) 

Tramp. 

(Jumps from the table and seizes Michael's 
hand.) You have no right whatever to do that. 

Michael. 

(Pausing and looking at the tramp with amaze- 
ment.) Is it long since you had a thrashing? 

Tramp. 

You have no right whatever to insult the female 
sex. 

Michael. 

Oh, you hound. Do you see that? (He 
shows him his fist.) 

Tramp. 
You are not allowed to exploit the female sex. 



i 7 6 THE CAUSE OF IT ALL 

Michael. 

I'll give you such a sound licking that you won't 
know your head from your heels. 

Tramp. 
Well, beat me. Why don't you? Beat me. 
(He offers him his face.) 

Michael. 

(Shrugs his shoulders and lifts his hands.) 
Well, if I do — 

Tramp. 

You may sin seven times; you can only pay 
the penalty once. Beat me. 

Michael. 

You are a queer man, I must say. [{He drops 
his arms and shakes his head.) 

Ignat. 

It's easy to see you're pretty gone on women, 
you dirty skunk. 

Tramp. 
I stand up for rights. 

Michael. 

(To MARTHA, going to the table and breath- 
ing heavily.) Well, Martha, you'd better light 



THE CAUSE OF IT ALL 177 

a big candle, and say a good prayer for him.* 
If it hadn't been for him I'd have beaten you to 
pulp. 

Martha. 
What else do I expect from you? Struggle 
all your life, bake and boil, and directly — 

Michael. 
That'll do, that'll do. (He ofers the tramp 
some vodka.) Drink. (To his wife.) What 
are you making such a fuss about? Can't under- 
stand a joke. Here, take the money, and put it 
away. Here are six roubles and forty kopeks. 

Akulina. 
What about the tea and sugar she asked for? 
Michael gets a packet out of 
his pocket and gives it to his wife. 
Martha takes the money and the 
parcel and goes into the closet, si- 
lently arranging the shawl on her 
head. 

Michael. 

These women folk are such fools. (He ofers 
more vodka.) 

*It is a custom in Russia to light candles before ikons in the 
cl irehes, and to light one on behalf of the person you wish to 
thank is a common way of expressing gratitude.— Editor. 



178 THE CAUSE OF IT ALL 

Tramp. 
(Refusing.) Drink it yourself. 

Michael. 
Don't stand on ceremony. 

Tramp. 
(Drinks.) All success to you. 

Ignat. 
(To the Tramp.) I expect youVe seen many 
sights. Oh, you've got a fine coat on, a real good 
coat. Wherever did you get it? (He touches 
the ragged coat.) Don't you mend it; it's fine 
just as it is. Years are telling on it, but you can't 
help that. If I had a coat like that the women 
would love me too. (To Martha.) Wouldn't 
they? 

Akulina. 
You ought not to make fun of a man that you 
know nothing about, Ignat. 

Tramp. 
It is want of education. 

Ignat. 
I mean it kindly. Drink. (Offers cup?) 

Tramp drinks. 



THE CAUSE OF IT ALL 179 

Akulina. 
You said yourself that it was the cause of all 
things, and that you'd been to prison through it. 

Michael. 
What did you do time for? 

Tramp. 

{Very drunk.) I suffered because I made an 
appropriation. 

Michael. 
How? 

Tramp. 
It was like this. We came to him, the fat-bel- 
lied creature, and we said, " Money — if not, see 
here's a revolver." He tried every way, this way 
and that, but he gave us 2,300 roubles. 

Akulina. 
OLord! 

Tramp. 
We were just going to distribute this sum 
fairly; Zembrikov was our leader. But the crows 
were down on us. We were arrested — sent to 
prison. 

Ignat. 
And did they take the money. 



180 THE CAUSE OF IT ALL 

Tramp. 

Of course. But they could not bring it home 
to me. The prosecuting counsel said to me, 
" You have stolen money." I answered at once, 
" Robbers steal; but we have simply appropriated 
for the party." He couldn't say anything to 
that. He tried one thing and another, but he 
could not answer. " Take him away to prison," 
he said, thus cutting short my liberty of my life. 

Ignat. 

(To Michael.) He's clever, the hound. A 
brick. (He offers more vodka.) Drink, you 
dirty skunk. 

Akulina. 

What language you do use. 

Ignat. 

I'm not swearing, grannie. That's only a lit- 
tle phrase of mine — dirty skunk, dirty skunk. 
To your health, grannie. 

Martha comes in } goes to the 
table and pours out tea. 

Michael. 

That's all right. What's the good of being 
offended? I say thank you to him. I respect 



THE CAUSE OF IT ALL 181 

you, Martha, ever so much. {To the Tramp.) 1 
Don't you make a mistake. {He puts his arm 
round Martha.) I respect my old woman — 
that's how I respect my old woman. My old 
woman; she's Ai. I wouldn't change her for 
anybody. 

Ignat. 

That's right. Grannie Akulina, have a drink. 
I stand it. 

Tramp. 

Such is the power of alcoholic stimulation. 
Every one was in a state of melancholy. Now all 
is pleasant. Friendly feeling reigns, grannie. 
I feel full of love to you and to all mankind. 
Dear brothers. {He sings a revolutionary song.) 

Michael. 
It affects him very much. He's been starved. 



ACT II 

The same hut. Morning. 
Akulina and Martha. Mi- 
chael is still sleeping. 

Martha. 

{Picking up the axe.) I'm going to chop some 
wood. 



1 82 THE CAUSE OF IT ALL 

Akulina. 

{With a pail.) He'd have knocked you about 
badly yesterday if it hadn't been for that other 
one. I don't see him. Has he gone? I ex- 
pect he has. 

They both go out. 

Michael. 

(Getting down from the stove.) Oh, oh, the 
sun is up. (He gets up and puts on his hoots.) 
I suppose the women have gone to fetch water. 
Oh, my head does ache. But I don't care. It 
can go to the devil. (Says his prayers; washes.) 
I'll go and harness the horse. 

Martha enters with wood. 

Martha. 
Where's yesterday's beggar? Is he gone? 

Michael. 
I suppose so. I don't see him. 

Martha. 

It doesn't matter. But he is clearly a clever 
man. He said he earned fifty roubles a month. 
He is a good man also. 



THE CAUSE OF IT ALL 183 

Michael. 
You think he is good because he took your 
part. 

Martha. 
What of that? 

Michael dresses. 

Martha. 
Did you put away the tea and sugar you brought 
home last night? 

Michael. 
I thought you took them. 

Akulina enters with the pail. 

Martha. 
(To the old woman.) Mother, did you take 
the parcel? 

Akulina. 
I don't know anything about it. 

Michael. 
I put it down on the window sill last night. 

Akulina. 
I saw it there. 

Martha. 
Where can it be? (Searches.) 



1 84 THE CAUSE OF IT ALL 

Akulina. 
It's a bad job. 

A Neighbour enters. 

Neighbour. 

Well, Michael, are you ready to go for the 
wood? 

Michael. 

Of course. I'll harness directly. But, you see, 
we've lost something. 

Neighbour. 
Have you? What is it? 

Martha. 

The master brought back a parcel of tea and 
sugar from town last night. He put it here on 
the window. I hadn't the sense to put it away, 
and now it's gone. 

Michael. 
We suspect the tramp who slept here. 

Neighbour. 
What tramp? 

Martha. 
He was a thin man, without a beard. 



THE CAUSE OF IT ALL 185 

Michael. 
With a ragged coat. 

Neighbour. 
And curly hair and a hooked nose? 

Michael. 

Yes, yes. 

Neighbour. 

I just met him. I wondered to see him walk 
so fast. 

Michael. 

It's sure to be him. Was he far off when you 
met him? 

Neighbour. 

I don't expect he's crossed the bridge yet. 

Michael. 

(Seizes his cap; he and the Neighbour run 
out.) We must catch him, the rogue. He took 
it. 

Martha. 

Oh, what a sin. It's sure to be him. 

Akulina. 

And what if it is not? Once, about twenty 
years ago, a man was accused of having stolen a 



1 86 THE CAUSE OF IT ALL 

horse. The villagers gathered together; one 
said, " I saw him put a halter on him." Another 
said, " I saw him leading it off." The horse was 
a big, long, dappled one, easy to see. Everybody 
began to search for it. In the wood they met the 
young man. " You took it." He swore on his 
oath he hadn't. " You took it. What's the good 
of looking at him?" said one; "the women said 
they had seen him and they are right." He an- 
swered roughly. And George Lapushkin, a hot- 
tempered man he was — he's dead now — just 
lifted his fist and gave him a blow in the face. 
" It was you," he said. After that blow, every 
one fell on him; they struck him with sticks and 
with their fists, and they beat him to death. And 
then what do you think happened? The next day 
they found the real thief. The other young man 
had only gone to the wood to pick out a tree to 
fell. 

Martha. 

Of course, it's easy enough to make a mistake. 
Although he's not in a good position, it's clear 
he's a good man. 

Akulina. 

He's fallen very low. What can you expect 
from such a man? 



THE CAUSE OF IT ALL 187 

Martha. 
Listen to them shouting! They are bringing 
him back, I expect. 

Michael enters, also the 
Neighbour, an old man, and a 
boy. They push in the Tramp 
between them. 

Michael. 
{Holding the tea and sugar to his wife, ex- 
citedly.) I found it in his trouser pocket. The 
thief, the rogue! 

Akulina. 
{To Martha.) Yes, it's him, poor fellow. 
See how he hangs his head. 

Martha. 
He was evidently talking about himself yester- 
day, when he said that a man will take anything 
when he's drunk. 

Tramp. 
I'm not a thief. I'm an appropriator. I am 
a worker, and I must live. You can't understand. 
You may do your worst. 

Neighbour. 
Shall we take him to the village elder, or 
straight to the police ? 



1 88 THE CAUSE OF IT ALL 

Tramp. 
Do what you like, I say. I am afraid of noth- 
ing, and can suffer for my convictions. If you 
were well educated you would understand. 

Martha. 
(To her husband.) Let him go in peace. 
We've got the parcel back. Let him go; don't 
let us sin. 

Michael. 
(Repeating his wife's words.) Don't let us 
sin. You want to teach me ! I don't know what 
to do without you? 

Martha. 
I only said you might let him off. 

Michael. 
Let him off. Don't I know what to do unless 
you teach me, you fool? Let him off! He may 
go, but I have a word to say to him to make him 
feel what he's done. So you listen, mossieu, to 
what I have to say. You may be in a nasty fix, 
but what you've done is disgusting, very disgust- 
ing. Another man would break your ribs for it, 
and then take you to the police; but I say, You've 
done a nasty thing: it could not be worse. But 
you are in such a bad way that I don't want to 



THE CAUSE OF IT ALL 189 

harm you. Go, go, in God's name, and don't do 
such a thing again. ( Turning to his wife.) And 
you wanted to teach me. 

Neighbour. 

You're wrong, Michael; you're wrong to en- 
courage them. 

Michael. 

{Still holding the parcel.) If I'm wrong, I'm 
wrong. It's my business. {To his wife.) You 
want to teach me. {He pauses, looks at the par- 
cel, and with a decisive movement gives it to the 
Tramp, looking at his wife.) Take this, and 
drink tea on your way. {To the wife.) You 
want to teach me. Go along, go along; it's no 
good talking about it. 

Tramp. 

{Takes the parcel. — A pause.} You think I 
don't understand? {His voice trembles.) I 
quite understand. Had you beaten me like a dog 
it would have been easier. Do you think I don't 
know what I am? I am a rogue : I mean a degen- 
erate. Forgive me, for Christ's sake. {Sobs, 
throws the parcel on the table, and leaves the hut 
hurriedly.) 

Martha. 

I'm glad he didn't take the tea, or we couldn't 
have made any. 



190 THE CAUSE OF IT ALL 

Michael. 
(To his wife.) You wanted to teach me. 

Neighbour. 
Poor fellow I he burst into tears. 

Akulina. 
He is a man, too. 






ft I 



